The Ocean Between Us
by Stardust585
Summary: There was something deep between them. Even if it was only an ocean. With every step he took to save her, he moved further away from her, and all Lizzie could do was watch that ocean grow between them. [post ep. 2x16 - Tom Keen] FINAL CHAPTER UP
1. Chapter 1

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** This is the first time that I dip my toe (or should I say keyboard) in the Blacklist fandom so I hope I got Liz and Red right, but most of all I hope that you enjoy this story.

What I really lacked in the last episode (2.15 – The Major) was interaction – any interaction – between Red and Liz, especially after Liz's admission in the King episode. Red was being Red, moving heaven and earth to help Liz, but I would have really liked to see them together even for a while, and so this is how this ficlet came to be. It takes place after Liz leaves judge Denner's office and just before Red leaves for Germany to retrieve Tom. I am not really a Lizzington shipper but this could be equally read as such - you decide for yourselves how you want to interpret this:)

**Disclaimer:** The Blacklist belongs to Jon Bokenkamp. I am not Jon Bokenkamp. Therefore, I do not own the Blacklist. I'm just a fangirl who can't resist playing with his wonderful creations:)

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Usually Liz was oh so easy to read for him, she knew it well. Whether it was her hiding Tom on that godforsaken boat or hiding the Fulcrum, he always seemed to be able to see right through her. This time, however, she made every effort to not show her feelings. It was enough that she had admitted – both to him and to herself – what had been lurking in the darkest recesses of her heart and mind for far longer than she cared to remember. But she had already lost so much of what she was supposed to remember that she did not want to give up anything more.

So as she watched him in the hangar preparing to board his private jet, she concealed her anger, fear and disappointment. Her hearing before judge Denner had left her shaken but at the same time curiously numb. Not really cathartic, it still gave her an inner sort of peace she hadn't felt ever since Raymond Reddington stepped into her life. Even though it might as well cost her career and freedom, there was something liberating about finally telling someone completely unconnected to her the truth. Or parts of it. For another thing that her hearing had made painfully clear to her was how little she actually knew. Her story sounded hollow even to her own ears and what made it even sadder was that it wasn't any tall tale but an honest account of her real life.

She had been so naïve as to think that Red would ever tell her anything that could help answer any of the million questions about her past. Instead, he had kept her in the dark, vowing never to lie to her but at the same time not giving away anything that would not serve his interests. His words from months back that he was never really telling her everything rang in her ears. Never were they truer than today when she sat in front of a judge and tried to make sense of the last eighteen months of her life.

"Hello, Lizzie. What can I do for you today?" Red's voice brought her out of her stupor.

As she looked at him standing a couple of feet away, she suddenly remembered why when sitting mindlessly in her office after the hearing, there was one thing she could not shake. Why finally she had reached for her phone and called Dembe.

"I thought you might be interested to know before you fly off god knows where that the Kings were probably the last Blacklisters with me on the task force."

She knew she sounded somewhat childish but she wanted to get some - any - reaction out of him. Ever since she had said she cared about him, he seemed to move away and keep his distance.

In response, he gave her a half-smile. "We will see about that," he said, his piercing gaze on her.

She narrowed her eyes a little, a feeling of foreboding suddenly creeping up her back. "Where exactly are you going?"

He did not reply.

"Reddington, where are you going?"

"My grandmother used to say that it doesn't matter where you are going but who you are going with. Or was it the other way round?" he let out a laugh, shaking his head slightly. "I never could really understand the woman. She was a vaudevillian singer with a penchant for dramatizing and a dreadful French accent."

Liz would not let herself be deterred. Not this time. "_Where_ are you going," she repeated, her voice shaking from the effort not to scream.

A muscle in his cheek twitched almost imperceptibly before he answered, "Just your run-of-the-mill business trip."

"You said you would never lie to me. I may be young and inexperienced but I am not stupid, Red."

"Good heavens, the thought never crossed my mind!" he said, letting out another one of his laughs that masked his real reaction so well to an untrained eye. Her eye, however, had been trained on him for long enough to discern among many of Raymond Reddington's genuine and fake laughs.

"I am not playing this game with you today," she said sternly. "Either you tell me or I am going back to the court and telling judge Denner I shot Eugene Ames."

He measured her with a sharp glance. If she didn't know better she could swear there was a flicker of desperation in his eyes as if he realized he could protect her from the world all he wanted but if she so chose, she could destroy herself in the blink of an eye and he would be left to watch helplessly. That was, she realized, the only power she had ever held over him. And as cruel and self-destructive as it was, she was pushed far enough to use it. He seemed to know it as well, she could see it in the dissatisfied pursing of his lips and the slow, thoughtful bite of his cheek, a tic she had to come to associate with him as much as his fedoras.

"I believe I told you once that nothing could be worse than losing you," he finally said. "Right now there is only one person in the world who can prevent that."

She blinked as sudden realization hit her with the force of a well-aimed punch. "Tom," she uttered. "You know where he is."

Red remained silent.

"You know where he is and what he has done to me and yet you're going to get him and bring him into my life again."

"If there was any other choice, Lizzie-"

"There is!" she shouted, angry tears streaming down her cheeks freely now that she had lost the strength to keep them at bay. "Leave him be and for god's sake just stay when I need you!"

Panic rose inside her at admitting aloud another painful but nonetheless true fact about her feelings towards him. She thought it was herself that her words would unravel but as she chanced a glance at him, she wasn't so sure anymore. It was as if they were back in that car again after arresting the Kings. Red was motionless, his eyes unable to leave hers, and it was as if the ocean that was always there between them, an ocean that she herself diligently cultivated with new waves of mistrust and anger, had suddenly dried out to a small brook, and she could see him. _Really_ see him. The perfectly tailored suits, the long-winded stories and brash smugness were only that. Distractions. But when you dared to come up close enough and stripped it all away, what was left was a diseased man, hurt and damaged by the life he had been made to live. So when she had told him she cared and to deal with that, she realized that he in fact couldn't. She saw that he could not understand how she could have risked her life for him. For him, a man so unworthy, so damaged. Just like right now he could not understand that she would want him at her side just for him. Not because she wanted answers or needed his help but because he mattered.

And then he blinked and like an elusive dream, that glimpse was gone and the ocean was back, heavy with visceral green breakers thundering between them.

"You don't need me, Lizzie. You need Tom Keen," he said and she tried not to feel hurt at the seeming ease with which he appeared to brush over her admission. She was beginning to understand that in reality there was nothing more difficult for him than say this to her but it had to be said nevertheless. To protect her. Always protect her. "And I'm going to get him."

She ground her teeth. "He- that man is _not_ Tom Keen! Tom Keen never existed," her voice caught in her throat. "I don't need him and I do not want to see him ever again," she continued after a moment, feeling a phantom of cold panic scrape over her skin like barbed wire at the very thought of seeing the man again. "I won't forgive you for this, Red."

He looked like a hawk, tensely perched on the edge of a decision already made. "Lizzie, as long as you are free and safe, I can live with that," he spoke in an unrelenting voice, although the sadness in his eyes didn't escape her.

"I should have killed him," she stated. "The one time I should have listened to you."

Her words reverberated in the vast space of the hangar, bouncing off of walls, washing over them in their finality.

"In Africa there is a curious small tribe," Reddington suddenly launched into one of his stories and Elisabeth stiffened. She didn't have the patience for it and yet, as usual, she found herself mesmerised by his voice, "That tribe believes that the only way to end pain and grief is to save a life. If someone is hurt or killed, the mourning ends with a ritual called the drowning man trial. The guilty person is taken out in a boat and thrown into the lake, with his hands and legs bound so he cannot swim. The victim's loved ones have to make a choice. They can save him or they can let him drown. If they let him drown, justice will be served but they will spend the rest of their lives in mourning. But if they save him, if they admit that life isn't always just, that very act could end their sorrow."

As his last word died down in the space between them, Liz exhaled slowly, realizing only then that she had been holding her breath.

"Am I the killer or the victim in this story?" she asked.

"Neither." Red pursed his lips. "The only way to end pain is to spare a life. You are so young, yet you have already arrived at one of the deepest truths, truths that take people lifetimes to fathom. Most never do," he shook his head. "I know I haven't and if it had been up to me, I would have killed him. And I would have been so wrong."

She raised her eyebrows, not entirely believing her ears. He could hardly blame her for being incredulous.

He gave her a small smile wrapped in a bitter sigh. "I may be a monster," he said, "but that doesn't mean I can't still value acts of mercy. And I cannot let yours go to waste. Hate me for this but you will let me do this. I'm sorry, Lizzie."

She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to apologize for wanting to save her. That she was beginning to understand what drove him, and finally coming to realize that she could never really hate him. For all that he was, all that he had done, and all that he kept from her, she could never bring herself to banish him from her life completely. And if she hadn't by now, she probably never would. But then Dembe was there, his presence catching Red's attention.

"We are running out of time, Lizzie," Reddington said, giving Dembe a slight nod. "Unless there is something else, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave. And if you don't want to see me ever again after this, I will understand."

He waited for her reply and when there was none, he nodded his head slightly. Then he turned and walked towards the jet.

That was the only thing she could do – remain silent, on the verge of saying something irreversible, but too afraid to say it. With every step he took to save her, he moved further away from her, and all Lizzie could do was watch the ocean grow between them again.

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I hope you enjoyed this! And now we wait for Thursday…

_* Red's African story is inspired by the story told by Nicole Kidman's character in the movie "The Interpreter". If you like political thrillers, I highly recommend it!_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to leave a review, fave or alert. Your encouragement is immensely appreciated!

In fact, I got quite a lot of requests to continue this story and although it was not my original intent, the last episode, while not my favorite, gave me some ideas (one scene in particular, you definitely know which one) so I decided to expand this story. I hope you'll like it!

**Disclaimer: **Check.

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"Get your things, Lizzie."

Agent Keen looked up from the case file she was studying to see Red standing over her with an expectant expression. She had not seen him for a week, ever since he left her looking over Eugene Ames' daughter.

Her own words and Red's sudden silent retreat had been hanging over her like mist all this time, clouding her thoughts and blurring her vision. Unknowingly, she must have finally pushed the right button and it had caused a sudden bout of sincerity from him. He must have been stricken by his own reaction as well for never before had he just walked away to avoid her profiling of him. Before, he was always cocky and upfront about it, either challenging her or easily changing the subject. This time all he was able to do was walk away. Liz could not shake the sight of all the conflicted emotions she saw bubbling in his silent stare before he left, shoulders sagging and his hand gripping the rail like an old man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

That was over a week ago and though she wouldn't admit it out loud, she was getting worried. Now that he was here, however, obviously well and in his best cocky form, she hid her thoughts under her strictly-business-you're-an-asset veneer and asked crisply, "Is this about another Blacklister?"

He handed her her coat in reply.

"Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously but put on the coat nonetheless.

"Roadtrip," he offered over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Liz sighed and followed him, grabbing her mobile and her purse on the way out.

Dembe was waiting for them outside and soon they were speeding through the streets of DC in Red's black limousine.

"Will you tell me where we're going? Why are you being so secretive?"

"Always so many questions, Lizzie," Red replied breezily. "Can't you just lay back and enjoy the ride?"

"That's a rhetorical question, right?"

He gave her a sideways glance, his lips pursed. "We'll be there soon and everything will become clear."

Red wasn't lying, about five minutes later they stopped in front of a pleasantly designed block of flats with large windows. She got out of the car after Reddington, her hand instinctively reaching for her gun. Barely had she managed to unpin the holster when she heard his laugh and felt his hand over hers, keeping her gun safely where it was.

"You really won't be needing this, Lizzie, I assure you."

She gave him a skeptical stare but let her hand drop from the gun and followed him through the main door onto the staircase and up to what she counted was the fifth floor. At the door numbered 64, he fished out a key from his coat pocket and opened the door. He motioned for her to get in first with a small smile playing on his lips. As she passed him she narrowed her eyes at him but it merely caused his smile to widen.

And then she was inside a moderately but tastefully furnished two-room flat, with big windows overlooking the park on the opposite side of the street. She heard the click of the door and turned towards Reddington, her hands on her hips.

"If you don't tell me why-" her voice died mid-sentence as he raised his hand, offering her the key. She looked at him incredulously, realization finally dawning on her. "Another apartment? _Seriously_?"

Red met her eyes with a mixture of mischief and disapproval. "Yes, since to my knowledge you are still living in that dinghy motel, which is completely unacceptable," he said, his tone mildly chiding. "You will like this one, Lizzie. Nothing too extravagant but pleasant and very comfortable," he added, a bright smile creasing his lips. "And it comes with a non-sale clause," he reserved. "There are only so many half-orphans you can give scholarships to, Lizzie."

She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not taking it," she stated categorically.

Red twined his hands behind his back and gave her a thin smile. "You know, when I was a child, I knew this boy, Sammy Millhouse. Sammy lived with his grandmother near my parents' house. He was a dear boy but he made it a point of spiting his grandmother. On one winter Saturday, as he was going out, she warned him not to go skating on the frozen lake. He wasn't really planning to go skating at all but when she told him not to, that's exactly what he did," Reddington sighed. "The ice broke under him. He was rescued but spent six months in a coma."

Liz inhaled deeply. "I'm not doing this to be contrary, Red. I can hold my own and I don't need to be _rescued_. By you or by anyone."

Red stared into oblivion, absorbing her words.

"This is not a matter of _protecting_ or _rescuing_ you, Lizzie. I know you can take care of yourself," he assured her. "But it's simply impossible for me to just sit back and watch you wither away in that hole after everything that you've already been through. After everything that you've lost."

"You keep saying I've lost so much," she said quietly, her eyes meeting. "That it was you who took much of it. But you won't tell me what it is that I've lost exactly."

"Because it is not for me to tell."

"Red, please. I need you-," her voice caught in her throat. "I _need_ you to tell me the truth so that I can-" _start trusting you and come to terms with the things I'm feeling for you, _she was going to say but the look in his eyes stayed the words on her tongue.

As he listened to her, an indefinite sort of feeling strangely similar to panic started creeping up his back. He couldn't let her go there. He only ever wanted to be an invisible benefactor, he never wanted to enter into her life because that meant bringing in his wake the darkness and destruction that were his constant companions. Neither did he expect to become emotionally dependent on her, he had no right at all to depend on her in any way, and he certainly would never take anything in return, no matter how willingly she bestowed it on him. That was why it was so incredibly horrifying for him when just two weeks ago she had risked her life for him. Why he was rendered so deeply silent and helpless in the car. Because she did not come out of curiosity or because she was doing her job. She did not come for the promise of answers. She came for him.

He could never allow that to happen again. He could not let her care about him, he could not deal with it, because down there was a dangerous path. It was much simpler and neater when all that bound them was their business arrangement: trading answers for answers. That was why Lizzie's confession carried so much weight – it cracked the surface of that arrangement. Now he had to do everything in his power to cover that crack and make it whole again. Go back to business as usual. Nothing more was acceptable.

"It was me. I hired Tom," he said simply.

He wasn't going to elaborate and let her know that he hired him to watch over her, to keep her safe. That he hadn't planned for Tom to go this far. That Tom had betrayed them both, playing a twisted double game and using Liz to get information on him for Berlin. Because that was his fault as well. Had he not sought Liz out, Berlin would have left her alone and Tom wouldn't have hurt her.

"You- what?" she sputtered. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Isn't that what you wanted? The truth?"

"I can't believe this," she shook her head, a mirthless laugh escaping her lips. "You buy me apartments, you stalk me at work and you choose me _my_ _husband _as well? Is there any part of my life that you haven't poisoned? Anything that you've left?"

"Lizzie-"

"Get out."

"I wasn't-"

"Fine. I'll get out," she said icily through clenched teeth and swept away without a single glance at him.

He watched her go, motionless in the empty apartment.

This was the right thing to do.

Her steps died down on the stairs and an agonized grimace crept over his features.

So why did it feel so damn wrong?

_tbc._

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It would mean a lot to me to know what you think, so drop a line. Even if only to say 'I liked it' or 'It didn't suck that bad' ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** Thank you again for your continuing support, it's really great to know there are people out there reading this;)

Btw, for you to know where my head is at regarding the canon storyline, the last chapter followed 2x16 but from this chapter on, it's free-styling.

**Disclaimer: **I'm not making any money from this, nor do I own Red or Liz.

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**Chapter 3**

"Good morning, Agent Keen. You're a real morning bird."

The friendly voice from the door made Liz jump in her seat. She had not been sleeping well the last couple of days and she started coming to the office at very early hours, figuring if she couldn't sleep she could at least catch up on the piles of paperwork that seemed to be a permanent landmark on her desk. She wasn't expecting anyone to be as early as her, especially her current visitor.

"Mr. Connolly," she said slowly with a slight crease in her brow, somewhat surprised to see the assistant attorney general in her office. "I'm afraid Director Cooper is not in yet."

"That's fine," he said with a laugh. "I'm not here for Harold. I'm here for you."

"Oh," Liz replied eloquently, trying to mask her surprised tone with a smile. "How can I help you, sir?"

"None of that," smiling, he waved a hand breezily at her as he seated himself comfortably across her desk. "I just came in to see how you're faring after that dreadful business with your husband."

"That's- very kind of you, sir. I didn't know you were following the case."

"I'm interested in anything that concerns the most valued member of Harold's team."

"I don't really think that's true, sir. All agents working here are very capable and-"

"Yes, of course," he interjected her. "Yet Raymond Reddington only talks to you, doesn't he?"

Liz opened and closed her mouth. She wasn't sure where this was going and she had no idea how much this man knew but there was an undertone in his voice that made her uneasy. Before she had time to reply, though, he gave her wide smile. "Just making small talk, Agent Keen. I don't want you to divulge any confidential information, after all. At least not yet," he added with a laugh although Liz did not think it was funny at all. She didn't think it was really a _joke_ at all.

"Anyway, I've got to be running," he got up, looking at his watch. "I'm glad you're doing fine, Agent Keen," he added stopping in the door. "And if you need help, I'm in your corner. Remember Reddington may not always be there to protect you."

Liz swallowed, managing to muster a tight smile that disappeared as soon as she saw the man's back.

He may be the assistant attorney general and Cooper's friend but he definitely had his own agenda here that she imagined she would not like. She did not even want to think what his words about Red not being able to protect her meant but he obviously knew more than Liz was comfortable with. At thought of one Raymond Reddington, her lips involuntary drew into a think line. She was not going to think about that man. Not now, not ever. Not after the latest delightful tidbit of truth she had learned from him.

~o~O~o~

It was Liz's luck that the day seemed to end in as disturbing a manner as it had begun. When she came back to her motel late in the night after a relatively uneventful day at the post office, she found it warded off by yellow tape.

"What happened?" she asked noticing the receptionist standing close to the tape with some other staff members and guests.

"Rat infestation," the man announced. "The extermination will take a couple of days but you can come take your personal belongings from storage. This will of course not figure into your bill, Miss Keen."

Liz sighed, pushing her hands into her coat pockets. Her right hand felt something cold. Pulling it out, she found a single silvery key glinting at her invitingly. She pursed her lips and glared at it.

Liz took off her coat and sunk into the sofa, looking around the apartment. The first time she was here, it ended with a blowout she still hadn't gotten over. To learn that Red had interferred with yet another part of her life proved too much. She was so angry with him, also because every time she started to come to terms with what and who he was and see that better part of him, she found out about another unthinkable thing he had done. Another scheme. Another lie. Ever since she met him that was all her life seemed to be. She had always been so sure of who she was and what she wanted to be. But then he came in and opened the blinds, and as soon as her life was put in the light, it turned out it was all a lie. Her entire life – her parents, her stepfather, the fire, her husband – nothing but a big lie orchestrated by one man. A game played by mysterious players with Raymond Reddington dealing the cards.

And yet, when her initial fury had turned to a slow-burning sizzle and her thoughts had cleared, she realized it was not that simple. She realized Red knew she would react exactly like this and he did this on purpose. He used her own anger as a smokescreen. For what, she did not know but the longer she thought about it, the more she became sure of it.

With that came more fundamental doubts. Her past was still such a mystery to her that in fact she didn't know what was false and what was true. Could she really blame him for everything bad in her life? Yes, but was she really that sort of person? She knew very well who he was and held no illusions about him. He made no secret of it, either. But she had also seen a man who could care and love deeply, a man who would do anything for those he held dear. Maybe she was naive but she believed that any man capable of this sort of devotion and love could not be truly evil.

And then there was the way he looked at her – at least used to – like she was his second chance, his chance at redemption. She suddenly remembered him telling her the story of the fish that wasn't really about the fish at all. It had taken her a moment back then to realize that he actually meant her. That she was his light and his warmth. No one had ever said anything like that to her. Anything so beautiful. Knowing that, could she really go around pushing him, hurting him almost on a daily basis? If she kept this up, with or without the fulcrum, one of these days he would simply up and leave. Disappear from her life. She wouldn't admit it out loud but in her heart of hearts she had finally admitted that she did not want that and that her life would in fact be emptier without him in it. To her dismay, Red had known that even before he did but in the face of it all, she knew it would hardly stop him. What could have the power to stop him, though, would be the answer to a different question, namely _why_ did she really want him around? Was it like it had been in the beginning, only to get answers about her past, or was it something else? That was when her thoughts became really contradictory and confusing.

Her musings were interrupted abruptly by a noise coming from the door. Grabbing her gun, she approached the door and carefully looked through the spyhole. She rolled her eyes and pulled the door handle.

Dembe looked up from the lock and straightened, his hand reaching for his gun but immediately falling to his side when he saw her. Close behind him was Red.

"You know, normally people knock first," she said to Dembe, studiously avoiding to look at the man standing behind him.

"The silent alarm went on," he explained simply, motioning at the small panel on the wall behind her.

"And you came to check in person?" she asked incredulously. "Are you my personal security now as well? Red keeping you that idle, Dembe?"

"Idle is not the right word," Red, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, said. "But this is a priority."

"And it didn't cross your mind it might be the actual owner?"

Red pursed his lips. "I believe you made your thoughts about owning or being in this apartment perfectly clear so no, it didn't," he pointed out. "Does this mean you've changed your mind?"

"No," she denied, not looking at him. "This is only for one night. Apparently there are rats in my motel and it's under pest control treatment," she added curtly and a certain thought dawned on her. She gave him a suspicious look. "Tell me it wasn't you orchestrating all this in the hope that I would come here."

Red let out a short laugh. "While I wouldn't put it past me, I've been far too busy this week to work out such an elaborate plan just to make you do something you so obviously did not want, Lizzie," he said. "Besides, I deal with a different sort of rats."

Liz wasn't fully convinced but considering how they had left things last time they saw each other and his absence this whole week, she doubted he would use such a convoluted way to get her here when she obviously didn't want to see him.

"Since I am already here," he smiled mildly at her, breezing into the kitchen, where he stopped in front of one of the cabinets. He took out a bottle with a big red ribbon wound around the neck, placing it in front of her.

"What's that?"

"I was planning to give it to you in two days but I think you might need it sooner. Happy birthday, Lizzie."

She blinked at him, realizing it was indeed her birthday in two days. How could she have forgotten?

Her hands a little shaky, she took the bottle in her hand. It seemed somehow familiar but she couldn't really put her finger on it. Then her eyes focused on the label and the handwriting that she would recognize anywhere. Her breath caught as she looked from the bottle up at him. "Is that-?" her voice caught in her throat as she looked at him for the first time this evening, her eyes glassy. "How did you-?"

He just smiled. "Share it with someone special," he advised and gave her a little nod. "Have a good night," he turned on his heel.

He was already at the doorstep when her voice reached him. "Wait," she said and he stopped, frowning at his incurable inability to simply walk away from her.

"Why did you hire Tom?" she asked the question he was dreading.

Not turning back, he lowered his head a little, biting his cheek. He did not want to have this conversation. Ever. Looking up, he met Dembe's pointed gaze from the corridor. His friend of course had a different opinion, one he had made abundantly clear to Red in the last couple of days.

"I'll be downstairs," he said now with a small satisfied smirk. Raymond shot him a glare but nodded.

"Why, Red?" Liz asked again, watching him close the door behind him and slowly turn to her. She realized her voice came out a little sharper than she wanted but she was so tired of this back and forth, up and down, this rollercoaster with him.

There was a twitch under his eye as he sat down at the kitchen table, taking his fedora off. He dropped his head, gathering his thoughts.

Starting all this a year and a half ago, he came to warn her, to save and protect her, knowing that, being who she is, she would hate him and think him a monster. That was what happened and he was prepared for that. What he wasn't prepared for, though, was his inability to shut her out. He was a businessman and dispassion was the businessman's best friend but with Liz that was not an option. Her confession that she cared about him made it painfully clear to him their arrangement was not a business deal anymore. Not for her and not for him. As she now sat opposite him, her face so pale and drawn, he realized that what he had tried to stop when they last saw each other in this very apartment had already happened a good while ago. The crack would not be covered. There was only one solution left for him. He had to go back to the shadows. But first he owed her some answers.

"Red?" she prompted and when he looked up, she was shocked to see his mask drop briefly, his voice flat as he started.

"The man you know as Tom Keen, I hired him to guard you and protect you. He was not supposed to interfere and he was certainly not supposed to enter your life," he said with a hint of anger behind his words. "But you fell in love with him and I thought he had fallen for you as well and that maybe, maybe this was better for you in the end. But then I found out that Berlin had hired him away from me."

Liz swallowed, trying to keep her face neutral and not show how much his words were affecting her. While ill-conceived and presumptuous, his intentions had been good, as she had known all along in her heart of hearts. It was all to protect her.

She fixed him with her gaze, waiting for more.

"I wanted to give you more time to get you settled into your new work and responsibilities but when I found out you were so close to adopting a child with that man, I couldn't stay in the shadows anymore. I had to act."

"So- you handed yourself over to the FBI and changed all your elaborate plans to protect me from having a child with Tom?" she asked softly.

Red simply nodded. "I'm not going to apologize for any of it, Lizzie," he said seriously. "I did what I thought necessary to protect you. I always will."

"Thank you," she whispered, her hand covering his. "I believe I should have thanked you a long time ago."

His eyes flickered to their hands before resting back on her face again. "No, Lizzie," he objected coarsely, shaking his head. "You will never have to thank me."

"Maybe I can do you one better," she said, feeling the beginnings of a small smile tug at the corners of her lips.

She stood up and after a quick reconnaissance found a bottle opener and two glasses. Red watched with growing surprise as she opened the bottle and poured the wine.

As she handed him the glass, she said, "To the special people."

He gave her a strained smile that felt very bitter. He both loved and hated her words because they signaled what he had repeatedly stopped himself from thinking about, let alone hoping for. That her interest in him would ever grow beyond her practical need for information. It was for the best. Simpler. Neater. It was much safer if all the emotions and feelings were contained within him. That way she would not become an obvious target.

Then, as if to prove his deepest fears, the unmistakable red dot of a laser sight slowly focused in the middle of Lizzie's forehead.

_tbc_.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** Thank you again for the wonderfully positive response to this story! Each and every one of you who was kind enough to review, fave or alert, you're amazing! Also, sorry for the cliffhanger in the last chapter, and although we're far from being past the drama, I hope this chapter will make up for this. You will totally make my day by reading, enjoying and, if you feel like it, reviewing.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Nada. Null. Though I wish I did.

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**Chapter 4**

The next time Liz opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was. As her eyes fluttered open, searing pain reverberated through her skull and she let her head fall back onto the bed again. She took a deep breath and tried again, opening her eyes fully at once. Blinking, she groaned and looked around. After making fairly sure she was at a medical facility of some sort, her eyes landed on the drooped posture of the man dozing in the armchair next to her bed.

It must have been early in the morning but the sky outside was already deepening to a daytime lapis. Sunlight was streaming in through the window in soft rays, lighting up small specks of dust that floated haphazardly in the air. They landed on his hair and shoulders then swirled away in elaborate, convoluted patterns when he breathed. Long, luminous sunbeams fell on his back and carved out his silhouette with decisive strokes, making it seem as if he was surrounded in a cocoon of light, an actor in the limelight. So appropriate.

It was a rare opportunity to see Red like this.

Normally people when they slept they seemed calmer, rest wiping out all theirs worries and wrinkles, if only for a fleeting moment. Not Raymond Reddington. If anything, he looked tense and alert, as if he might wake up any second. She imagined years on the run and living outside the law did that to a person. As she looked closer, she saw he had blood, she realized it must be her blood, on the backs of his hands and his shirt cuffs and there was a smear even on his collar. It was such a dissonance seeing this version of Red, the elegant, powerful, dangerous man that he was, huddled in a plastic hospital chair in dirty and creased clothes from the day before. There were traces of a five o'clock shadow on his normally immaculately shaven cheeks and dark circles were beginning to bloom around his eyes. He looked tired. Tired and worn-out.

When the facade of his charm and his costume of elegantly-cut clothes interwoven with bravado were dropped, it was apparent that the years of loss, violence and danger had not left him as untouched as he liked to show to the outside world. She knew he wouldn't like anyone, especially her, seeing him like this but she was glad, even though the sight was strangely heartbreaking to her.

He was many things – a criminal mastermind, a ruthless businessman, a cold-blooded killer, a source of information, a silent benefactor, a shoulder to cry on, but never just a person. She remembered the King auction, where he was put on display just like a fake vase or a Picasso painting. That was what he was reduced to. It was like people did not really want him – they wanted either to get the information he possessed or to get even. It was as if he was not human anymore but a number, and item of value put on sale. The worst of it all was that Red seemed to believe it himself.

She swallowed, suddenly ashamed of herself. That was how she had treated him for a long time herself, the reason why she kept holding on to him. Out of her curiosity and thirst for answers. He was not a man, but an asset, a bringer of practical, material things: information. With a new pang of shame she realized he knew that and he didn't expect more from her. He accepted everything she threw at him – her anger, all her accusations and harsh words, not to mention a pen in the carotid – as long as she would just let him be a part of her life.

Liz ran a hand over her face. With him looking like this, looking like a normal _vulnerable_ human being for once without all his flamboyancy and theatricality, it was easier for her to see all that for the first time. She had already caught a glimpse when just two weeks ago they sat together and he spoke about Eugene Ames' daughter but now she saw it clearly. A flesh-and-blood person, capable of feeling pain, love and loss like any other. _If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you poison us, do we not die?_

Still, he could be cruel, manipulative and cold. He killed Sam. He inserted Tom into her life. He kept her past away from her. How could all of this fit into one person? And how did she feel about it all? She felt her eyes prickle, mostly out of confusion at her own feelings, and she sat up, knocking over one of the IVs. Not her most graceful moment. His eyelids were fluttering open immediately. She turned her head as a stray tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. She didn't want him to know how shook up inside she was.

He gave her a soft smile. "Hello, Lizzie. How are you feeling?"

"Peachy," she replied with a grimace. "What happened?" she asked matter-of-factly, trying to cover the chaos she was feeling inside with a curt tone.

"There was a sniper," Red replied, his voice turning low and serious. "The bullet nicked the side of your head-" he watched her hands wander to the bandage around her head instinctively, "-but it's only a flesh wound, nothing serious," he added, leaning a bit closer. He winced a little as the stiches on his arm strained where the bullet went through his bicep as he pushed her away. He would never tell her how close it was. He preferred not to think about it at all. "You're going to be fine."

She tried to muster a small smile. "If that's how all birthday celebrations with you around look-"

"This is not funny, Lizzie."

she pursed her lips. "Do you know anything about the shooter? I imagine if you had caught him, we would be having a different conversation right now."

"Indeed. The shooter has remained-" he pursed his lips, "-unfortunately elusive for now but he will be found," he said, his voice holding a deadly promise.

"How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours. You had a minor concussion."

"Wow, a blackout and a concussion. The perfect birthday."

Red was about to reply when Dembe walked in, a phone in his hand.

"I know what you said but you really want to take this," he said and handed Reddington the phone.

"Excuse me," he said and got out of the room. "Who is this?"

"How is Agent Keen doing?" came a raspy voice from the other end. "Did she see how bravely you jumped in front of that bullet? Pretty impressive although reckless, Mr. Reddington."

"Who is this and what do you want?" Red ground out.

"Only your attention, Mr. Reddington. You are not a man easily impressed so we had to do something that would catch your eye."

"Color me incredibly impressed," he practically growled out. "Although I am not sure this is the sort of attention you want from me. Because from this moment on, you've become the center of my world and you are not going to like it, I can assure you."

"I would be careful of the threats I make, Mr. Reddington," came a short laugh from the other end. "You are not the only man with resources around here. Today you've seen but a small display of my power – how easily I can reach the people you care about."

Red felt his eye twitch. "I don't have the luxury of having such people."

"Oh, I think anyone with eyes would disagree."

"What do you want?"

"How about we meet to discuss this in person? Just the two of us?"

A moment later Red stood unnoticed in the door to Lizzie's room, watching her talk to Dembe, the two of them sharing a laugh and an easy camaraderie he would never suspect yet at the same time was not surprised about at all.

Even after all she had been through, all he had thrown at her, she had managed to remain a good and honest person, and she would not be broken. Wherever their journey might take them, in all that darkness he lived in, she had become a ray of light for him, just by being in his life, by being who she was. And now she was once again in danger because of him. Standing there looking at her, he promised himself it would be the last time.

Then her gaze caught his and something flashed behind her eyes. He chose not to see it and instead plastered on a bright smile. "Wonderful news!" he announced, walking into the room. "The good doctor says we can take you home."

Liz was all too ready to leave and soon they were speeding through the streets of DC. Red was unusually quiet and Liz took a moment to observe him from the corner of her eye. She noticed the network of lines around his eyes was deeper and his smiles seemed strained. There was something weighing heavy on him and she was once again reminded of her earlier thoughts. She knew what she had to do. She had known for a while but didn't want to admit it. The shooting had changed that, though. She had a good suspicion the bullet was aimed for Red rather than for her and that made it about his safety. And there was something, one thing, that she could do to ensure it. And if it meant he would leave, she would deal with that because he would be safe. Or safer.

"Do you need anything?" Red asked as they stopped in front of her motel. "Do you have your rat repellent on you?"

Liz shot him a sideways look and got out. "Could you wait a moment?" she asked him, leaning in through the window.

Curious, he got out of the car as he waited for her. She came back soon with a small package in her hands that she offered to him. He took it on instinct. One glance at the object confirmed his suspicions.

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you concerned anymore I'll up and leave and you'll never see me again?"

"No, I'm not concerned about that."

He strived to keep his expression neutral. That was what he wanted, after all. To have all these emotions and impulses contained within him, and only him. Curiosity and thirst for information could trigger a certain amount of recklessness but anything deeper would be much, much worse. But now he had it confirmed that it was not – and could never be – how she looked at him. It was both pain and comfort.

"But I am afraid," she added suddenly, looking a bit surprised at her own words.

"Of me." It was not a question.

"Of losing you," she said simply and shifted her eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze. Then she quickly turned away and went up the stairs to her apartment.

He stood there motionlessly for a long while after she had disappeared from his sight, his fingers growing white from the strength of his grip on the box.

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So there wasn't that much action in this chapter but this will change soon, and Liz needed to sort some things out in her head. I hope you liked this and if you did, please leave a review!


	5. Chapter 5

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** Again, this is freestyling away from the canon although you might notice some references to episode 2x18 (btw, damn you, TPTB – how can you make us wait this long after _that_ cliffhanger!).

Also, a BIG thanks to the amazing _inmate23_ who was kind enough to give me her feedback and thoughts on this!

**Disclaimer**: The stating-the-obvious part of the exercise: I own nothing and am not making any profit out of this. I'm just borrowing the lovely Blacklist characters but I promise to return them unscathed:)

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**Chapter 5**

When Liz came into her motel room for the second time, this time she closed the door on the outside world but most of all on that incredibly intense look she had caught on Red's face from the corner of her eye as he stood there with the Fulcrum. At times she felt like a pawn in an intricate game of chess he was playing, a puppet at the beck and call of the master puppeteer. Still, whatever game he was playing or performance he was giving, whatever end goal he had in mind, it was clear that her life mattered more to him. Because of that, she found she didn't hate being a pawn in his hands as much as she probably should because _his_ life depended on those games.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sudden premonition that went through her spine. She cursed silently realizing her standard issue Glock was still in the carry-on bag she had thrown on the bed. Before she had time to reach for it, someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth with his hand.

"Hello, Liz," Tom Keen's voice was no more than a whisper in her ear but in the silence it reverberated like an explosion. "I am unarmed and have no intent of attacking you," he continued in a measured voice. "In a moment I will let you go and you won't attack me. Do we have a deal?"

She nodded and he slowly released her from his grasp. Not missing a beat, she swirled around and lunged for the carry-on and her gun. It wasn't there.

"Looking for this?" he asked as she turned to him, the bed between them. Her Glock lay in his palm, its grip in her direction. "You should lock your door."

"Believe me, I am kicking myself," she replied through gritted teeth.

"I'm not here to harm you, Liz. I just came to see if you're all right," he said imploringly. There seemed to be genuine concern in his expression but Elizabeth had learned the hard way that this man could play any role, imitate any emotion. And he was especially good in his performance as her concerned loving schoolteacher of a husband.

"What the hell are you still doing in DC?" she spat out angrily. "In the _country_?"

"I told you-" he began again.

"No, I'm tired of listening to your crap," she cut him off. "What are you really doing here?" she demanded.

He met her gaze steadily. "I learned you were targeted and came as fast as I could," he finally relented with an unwilling answer. "I had to know you were all right."

"Why, Tom? Or whatever your name is."

"Jacob," he offered. "My real name's Jacob."

"Jacob," she tried on her tongue instinctively but immediately collected herself and gave him a glance that could cut glass. "So, _Jacob_," she continued derisively after a moment, "now that you've seen I'm all right, why don't you get the hell out of here before I kick your ass until tomorrow and call the police."

He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Here. Take your gun if it makes you feel better but hear me out, Liz," he pleaded and offered her the Glock. She snatched it quickly and moved away, aiming it at his head.

He gave her a nod as if he hadn't been expecting any other reaction. "Good. I feel better knowing you're cautious."

"Don't you dare use this condescending tone with me."

"I'm sorry," he apologized hastily. "I meant no disrespect, Agent Keen," he stressed. "You haven't changed your name," he added in a neutral tone but there was a small smile curving his lips.

Liz wanted to wipe that smirk off his face with the Glock's grip. Still, she held herself back because deep down, she was curious why he was here. He may even have some information on her – or rather Red's would-be – shooter. So she took a deep breath and decided to turn down the hostility a notch for the sake of finding out if Tom knew anything about the shooting.

"How did you know about the shooting? Do you know who targeted me? And that I was the target?"

"Who else could be the t-" he began to ask but interrupted himself as realization dawned on him. "Reddington. You were with Reddington and thought he was targeted," he let out a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Since when do you care if he's a target of a shooting?" he narrowed his eyes slightly at her, a calculating look taking over his features.

She released the safety on the Glock. "Answer me," she demanded.

He shrugged, seemingly unaffected by her tone and the aim of her gun. "While nothing would make me more glad, this time it wasn't him. It was you."

She swallowed, a feeling of dread coming over her, but her grip on the gun remained steady. "_How_ do you know this?"

"An old contact," he replied dismissively. "Not active anymore but still very well-informed."

"Do you know who ordered the hit?"

"No, but I could find out more."

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" she asked caustically.

"There is one small thing," he admitted. "My confiscated passports. I need them."

"I'm not going to sneak into evidence and steal them for you!"

"Then you won't find out who ordered the shooting." He shrugged. "You can of course let Reddington lead you around and count he'll let you in on this but I wouldn't hold out much hope."

Her hand wavered just a little. "Reddington doesn't know a thing about it."

"Sure, Liz. Like has never kept anything from you before," he pointed out shaking his head, an indulgent smile on his lips. "Come on, Liz, when will you learn that the man never tells you but a fraction of what's going on? When will you stop being the naïve ingénue? As long as you won't, he'll never treat you as an equal. A partner."

She steeled her jaw. "You mean like you have? I'd rather stick to the naïve ingénue then. A naïve ingénue who's holding you at gunpoint," she added.

He raised his hands in a non-threatening manner and reached behind him for the door. "Easy. I'll find you when I have something more. Have the passports ready. Oh, and happy birthday, Liz."

With that, he slipped away. After a couple of heartbeats, when she was sure he wasn't coming back, she finally let her knees go weak and crumbled to the bed. While she hated to admit it, Tom was right. She didn't want his words get to her but the truth of the matter was that it wouldn't be the first time Red kept her in the dark. She recalled the fleeting glance she caught of him in the hospital when he had come into her room and wasn't quick enough to immediately employ his usual urbane expression.

She had always assumed he held back for her protection and safety. However infuriating and condescending of Reddington that reasoning was, it had been starting to make sense to her lately. But if all that was underpinned by something else, by his conviction that she was incapable of dealing with the truth, that she was weak…Unbidden, her eyes glazed over dangerously close to tears. She shook her head angrily. Why the hell had she ever allowed herself to care about what Raymond Reddington thought of her? To care about him?

~o~O~o~

"I don't think we've been officially introduced. Thomas Connolly."

Red didn't show any surprise. He had identified the assistant district attorney the moment he stepped into the abandoned warehouse where Connolly had set up the meet. Reddington looked around, his face displaying a jovial smile. His trained eye had identified only one potential exit, the door he had come through, and no apparent hiding spots. An almost perfect trap, for anyone less experienced than Red. It may not stop Red but it told him a lot about his adversary. For one, Connolly was no novice to this.

He looked back at the other man. "I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but we both know that's not entirely true."

Connolly let out a short laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Ballsy, Mr. Reddington, especially considering you're on my turf."

"Is it?" he asked nonchalantly. "It's merely logic. You want something from me. To get it you need me alive and unscathed _ergo_ you won't try anything."

"Yet."

"Ah, the empty threat part of the banter," Red remarked. "While I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying this, I have an appointment with my chiropractor so if we could cut this short-"

"Agent Keen," Connolly interjected, not rising to the bait.

Red raised his eyebrows, his mouth turned in an expression of indifference. "What about her?"

"The accusations against her in relation to Eugene Ames' death. The trial," Connolly continued. "I made it go away and I can make it go back as quickly. I also have some interesting material from Agent Keen's and her unit's FBI-issued mobiles."

"I didn't know the office of state attorney was in the business of blackmailing and eavesdropping on its own government's agents," Red remarked derisively.

"Only those socializing with fugitives and murderers."

Red pursed his lips. "If you know this much, you know that it was me who approached her and the FBI, not the other way round. I asked directly for her. She is a most unwilling participant in all of this."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that."

"That is the truth."

"Even so, truth can be told in many different ways."

Red drew himself up a little, a small muscle tic flickering below his left eye. He lost count of how many of those power-greedy politicians with their little games and power plays he had to deal with over the years but this one he would have to be careful with – he obviously had some powerful backing. Red was going to destroy him for his threats and the danger he had put Lizzie in but he was not about to commit the mistake of underestimating this new enemy, either. His ruthlessness and apparent conviction that he could get to Red through Lizzie was making him a dangerous opponent.

"What do you want, Mr. Connolly?" he asked with a deceptively bland smile.

"I believe it's a black ops file you seem to be in possession of."

"_Seem_ being the key word here," Red replied, not missing a beat only due to years of experience. "Whoever supplies you with information, you should advise them to engage in a different field of interest because they are way off their mark."

"Are they? OK then," Connolly took a mobile out of his coat pocket and showed it to Reddington. "I push this button and everything we have on Agent Keen becomes public knowledge. Shall we try?"

"What makes you think what happens to that agent has any impact on me?"

"If it doesn't, you won't mind, will you?" he placed his hand back on the mobile's keypad.

Red gave him a measured look. "I may know who has it but it will take time and resources."

"I believe you have both. You have time until the end of this week," Connolly stated. "Needless to say, if anything happens to me during that time, Agent Keen can say good bye to her career and freedom," he added. "What do they say? Orange is the new black?" he laughed at his own joke. Then his face grew serious, "You'll be hearing from me within the week."

"Looking forward to it," Red threw over his shoulder, turning around. He was at the door when he heard from behind him, "Do you know Tom Keen has been calling her? I believe they also met."

Red made every effort not to miss a beat when he replied in a flat tone, "Who Agent Keen chooses to associate herself with is only her business."

A low chuckle. "You tell yourself that, Mr. Reddington."

He adjusted his fedora and left. Getting inside his car, he allowed himself a small smile. Messing with Lizzie was Connolly's first mistake. Revealing his identity to Red was his second. There would be no third.

~o~O~o~

One of the many things Raymond Reddington had never told Elizabeth Keen was how closely he monitored not only her professional activities but also her private life. There were now three sharp shooters positioned around her motel and another three bodyguards roaming the perimeter. A hacked Chinese satellite was monitoring every movement in the area and a drone was hanging overhead. He imagined she would not be exactly thrilled by the idea of her every move being so closely watched and documented. She had been angry when he had one sniper after her but he wasn't taking any risks. He might mention it some time if he needed to vex her or to distract her but other than that, this was going to remain his secret.

This night, however, apart from the silent entourage, Lizzie had one more guardian.

Red adjusted his position in the uncomfortable armchair opposite her bed. Connolly gave him a lot to think about and he managed to rattle him. His knowledge of the Fulcrum and his conviction that he could get to him through Lizzie put his hair on edge.

He had already ordered a full-blown inquiry into the man and all his potential associates. He had more than a dozen plans ready at this point but he still didn't feel enough prepared for the dark clouds that were quickly gathering over their heads. If anything happened to Lizzie because of this…He rubbed his forehead, not letting the thought even materialize in his head. And then there was the issue of her being in contact with Tom Keen again.

He ran a hand over his face, letting the weariness that was his constant companion get the better of him for an unguarded moment. His eyes felt wet and burning. He told himself it was exhaustion. Or that it was fear because she let her guard down and left herself unprotected. Or finally that it was rage because she had left him out. Because she didn't trust him enough to tell him. But fear and rage, they were his good companions. He knew how to deal with them and master them. They left his mind clear and cold. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, forcing himself to think in a calm and dispassionate manner.

"No!" Liz suddenly exclaimed and he jumped, inwardly chastising himself for letting his attention slip for even a second.

If she found him here, he would spin some tall tale or distract her but he didn't want that. Intentionally, he led her to believe it was all a game for him that he kept playing for his own goals, but in truth it was starting to weigh more and more heavy on him. Keeping the truth from her was one of the most difficult things he was forced to do in many years. She had given him the Fulcrum without any demands or questions. A year ago, even a month ago, it would have been unthinkable. But now that she had thrown away their contract with her admission of caring about him, their business deal was off and the clear cut, clean lines he had set up between them were starting to become fuzzy. He could not let it go any further. He was so weary. He was _drained_. He didn't remember love ever being this exhausting.

As he silently came over to the bed, he realized she was still asleep but having a nightmare. He bent slightly over her, tossing and turning under her sheets.

"Red, no!" she let out another anguished noise and his mouth fell into a grim line. Even in her dreams he was the monster.

His hand moved of its own accord, coming to gently rest on her forehead. He carefully smoothed out the creases of anxiety and distress from her brow, softly running his fingers over her hair. After a moment, the pinch in her brow had relaxed, the long line of her body became free from the tension he'd seen in it earlier, and she peacefully fell back into the arms of Morpheus. Red allowed himself the smallest of smiles and went back to his silent vigil.

~o~O~o~

Liz woke up slowly. Strangely enough, considering what she had been through in the last days, she felt content and safe. When was the last time she felt like this? A rusty boat. Awkward but sincere kisses dropped onto her hair. The man who kept rescuing her time and again.

With a sudden jolt, she sat up straight and threw away her covers. _Dammit. _She needed a cold shower and some strong coffee. Badly. Barely had she stepped out of the bed when she heard her mobile come to life. Looking at the display, she took a moment before picking up.

"Hello, Lizzie," came the cheerful voice from the other end and she rolled her eyes, picturing his overly bright smile. "Did you sleep well? I hope so because I have a new blacklister for you."

_tbc._

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I hope you liked this! If so, do review, even if to say "OK/Not OK.":)


	6. Chapter 6

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to leave a review. Your encouragement is immensely appreciated! I'm sorry for not updating last week but RL and writer's block got in the way:/ I hope this – longest yet – chapter makes up for it!

Writing this I was listening to the amazing song by Susie Suh "Here with Me", which I first heard in episode 1x03 Wujing. If you don't remember it, I highly recommend you listen to it. It's beautiful, fits Lizzington so well and has become a sort of a leading tune to this story for me.

Finally, a huge shout-out and thank you as always to the amazing _inmate23_ for her encouragement and feedback!

**Re-cap: **After giving Red the Fulcrum, Liz had an unexpected visit from Tom and they struck a tentative cease-fire, sort of. Red met with his newest nemesis face to face, who turned out to be an unexpectedly familiar person. Plus, there's a new blacklister on the block and Liz has a lot of uncomfortable questions for Red.

**Disclaimer:** As always, not mine. Just borrowing those two, promise to return them whole and unscathed;)

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**Chapter 6**

_Nobody knows why_

_Nobody knows how _

_This feeling begins just like a spark_

_Tossing and turning inside of your heart_

_Exploding in the dark_

~ Susie Suh and Robot Koch, "Here with Me"

"Dembe!"

Liz called in warning just as a bullet whizzed past her head and she ducked lower behind the crate. Blood pounded in her ears as she realized that they were the only two left standing from the team that had entered the derelict magazine only ten minutes ago.

This was supposed to be just a routine search in one of the magazines in the city's outskirts to try and smoke out a drug-dealing gang but Red had been insufferable about Dembe accompanying her to 'see how it should not be done'. She suspected some ulterior motive on his side but they were on a schedule and she let it go. Besides, she liked Dembe. He was good company.

Her eyes darted around the warehouse to see Dembe help protect one of the downed officers in his mad run to get to where she was taking cover. Sweat plastered curls to her neck and forehead and she ran a hand through them as she reassessed the situation around her. Three officers were down, Ressler had been shot in the arm and caught in crossfire on the other side of the magazine, and it was only she and Dembe left there with ammo running low and four or maybe more shooters hell-bent on making ceviche out of them.

She fired another round of shots to cover Dembe as he flung himself the last couple of yards to land shoulder to shoulder with her.

"Are you all right?"

"Perfect. Having a blast. You?"

He gave her a small smile and nodded. Then he handed her a spare magazine and took out another one to re-load his own gun. "I got rid of two more, there is one to our left on that catwalk with a machine gun and two other positioned to his left and right with semi automatics," he informed her matter-of-factly.

"Wow, Red will be so disappointed he missed this," she remarked pushing the magazine into her gun.

Dembe gave her a sideways look. "Don't joke like this, Liz. When Raymond finds out, he's going to blow a fuse."

"I'd like to see that," she replied with a vindictive smile at the imagery and took a deep breath.

She actually would like to see the man upset because that would mean they were getting out of here in one piece. So that she could still be angry with him. Tom had insinuated that Red knew more about the shooting than he was letting on. While she trusted Tom as far as she could kick him, she also knew Red. Knew him and wasn't surprised in the least he was keeping things from her. That was what he did. But she was running out of patience and getting bone-tired of all the secrecy, half-truths and manipulations she had been subject to as of late.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to return to the situation at hand. Coming up slightly over the crate, she pulled the safety on her gun with Dembe doing the same. Gunpowder burned her eyes as they both fired over the crate, expending several more rounds before ducking back down. She released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding and for a split second things went calm. She forced a hand through her hair and turned to continue firing but stopped as she heard Ressler scream for everyone to get down. Dembe was suddenly in front of her putting his arms around her when a rush of heat and energy threw them both from their position and into the brick wall behind, and then everything went black.

~o~O~o~

Red shot out of the city car towards Dembe, who was waiting for him aside from the police cars and police tapes.

"Are you all right?" he asked, letting concern take over his features for a moment.

"I am fine. So is Agent Keen."

Red nodded. "What happened, Dembe?"

"Just your run-of-the-mill shootout," came from behind the closest ambulance and then Liz was ducking under the tape and coming up to them.

It didn't escape Red that she was walking with a slight limp and a big bruise was starting to bloom on the right side of her face. He ground his teeth. He had fed the FBI one of the less significant blacklisters, a disloyal greedy cockroach that had overstepped his bounds, wanting to keep Lizzie as far away as possible from the Fulcrum and Connelly, but apparently he had underestimated the Bureau's incompetence to handle even a simple drug bust.

Then she was standing in front of him, and his irritation gave way to concern. Her expression was unreadable to him – he had given up trying to decipher them long ago. He was off the mark so often that there really was no point.

"If it hadn't been for Dembe, I'd have looked much worse," she said, gifting the taller man with a grateful smile.

Dembe simply nodded, as if it was the most normal thing to do to throw himself between her and an explosion, and moved away to give them some space.

Liz followed Dembe's retreating figure to the car, trying to stretch out the moment as long as possible before she had to face Reddington. She hadn't seen him since she gave him the Fulcrum over a week ago. He had been communicating only through brief phone calls verging on curt, and then finally today he had sent Dembe, like a babysitter. If it hadn't been her sympathy for the man and her conviction that they could use his skills, she would have sent him away in an instant, if only to spite Red.

"I thought that you had up and left, now that you have the Fulcrum. That was what you came here for in the first place, wasn't it?" she asked belligerently, feeling a sudden urge to get to him and make the slightest crack in his serene countenance.

"The Fulcrum was one of the reasons, yes," he admitted, his voice calm. "But not the only one."

"The other being my safety and well-being," she supplanted angrily. "You keep saying that, implying that, but how can I ever trust your words if every _single one_ of your actions is also underpinned by some game you're currently playing, a new manipulation or another business. Like the shooting last week."

There was a small muscle tick under his right eye, a clear sign that what she had said was unexpected and he was processing it.

She kept pushing. "You think I haven't noticed you hardly involved yourself in this case? That I haven't realized you pulled some small fish blacklister to take my and the FBI's attention away from what you're really doing?"

"Josiah Stompe is no small fish, he owns the drug business in DC."

"Owned. It wasn't the smartest move to hide away behind the propane tank as it exploded," she remarked and pinned him down with a steely gaze. "I know you're investigating the shooting on your own but apparently you don't trust me enough to involve me."

"Lizzie, this is not about trust."

"Yes, I know, it's about my _safety_," she spat the last word out. "It's always about my safety. You use this like some kind of a shield whenever you need a comfortable justification for once again treating me like a child, too young and inexperienced to handle the truth. Well, I'm done with it. If you don't tell me the truth, I'll find it out on my own."

He pursed his lips, seemingly indulging her when he asked, "What do you want to know?"

"What do you know about the shooting?"

"Nothing concrete enough to share yet."

"Does it have anything to do with the Fulcrum?"

"Possibly."

She steeled her jaw, deciding to change her tactics and trying to get him off-balance. "What were you doing in my house the night of the fire?"

"How did you know my father?"

There was no reply. She clenched her teeth. "Why have you chosen me as your contact? Why am I so important? So _special_?"

"Lizzie, you cannot expect me to answer any of those questions." His voice was flat but there was something piercing about his gaze, ingraining his words with much more meaning than any tone ever could. "I would burn the world for you but I can't tell you the truth. I won't do anything that would put you in harm's way."

"Like when you kept me under hypnosis to learn about the Fulcrum when Braxton took me?"

Red opened and closed his mouth. She had hit the right spot.

"You are so full of it."

"That…was different. I was-"

"No!" she objected angrily. "I don't want to hear it, I don't want you to spin another tale and talk your way out of this. Not this time. I just want to know," she continued in a more silent tone. "Because right now, I'm feeling blind and deaf. I'm like an uprooted tree, with no roots and no solid ground beneath my feet. Do you know what happens to uprooted trees? They wither and die and I'm dying right now because I can't go on like this any longer! You string me along with the promise of answers that you never give. You say you want to protect me from some dark, mysterious forces that threaten my life but all I see in your actions is you using me for your shady businesses and self-interest! You protecting yourself above anything else!"

"Lizzie-"

"The only way you can prove to me it's not like that is to tell me the truth," she said through her teeth. "Will you?"

His eyes were bright, holding a tortured but resigned look that told her his reply even before he spoke. When he did, his voice was low and somber, "I can't."

In her anger, she didn't hear the broken tone in his voice or the desperate anguish in his eyes. Hot, stinging tears were starting to blur her vision and she didn't want to disintegrate in front of him, she needed to get away.

"I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore. Not ever," she said, starting to choke up on tears but not letting them fall. She turned away.

The cutting, scorching wave of emotion, the one that would crash over her when she truly let her own words sink in, would only be properly dealt with once she was alone. Away from him. To hear him say he would burn the world for her sent a chill through her and if she had been any less angry at him at that point, her reaction would have been quite different. But she pushed that away. She needed to be angry with him, needed her anger to get her through this, to finally get the answers she was looking for. Otherwise she would forgive him and they wouldn't move an inch. He would never think of her as an equal, as a worthy partner. She needed to prove to him she could deal without him.

She texted the one other person that could give her answers.

~o~O~o~

"Do you have the passports?"

"First prove to me that you really know something and then we talk passports."

"I see Reddington's rubbing off on you." Tom let out a long-suffering sigh but gave in under her sharp gaze. "Your father was a member of a clandestine organization that was initially set up to bring about the end of the cold war. What started out as an idealistic idea, soon turned into a gang of high-powered kingpins under the lead of a new director. When your father saw what the organization had become under new leadership, he wanted to get out. To protect himself and his family, he stole a black ops file with evidence of the group's key dealings. But that didn't go as planned. He was killed before he could get out."

"You told me my father was still alive."

"I was trying to mess with you." He hung his head. "I'm sorry for that."

"What of Reddington's involvement?" she asked coldly.

"He was there the night of the fire. The night your parents died," he added for emphasis. "That is all I could find out."

She clenched her teeth and threw the passports in his face. "Here. Now you can get out of my life and crawl back into the hole where you came from."

"Or I can stay and help you find out more and deal with this, Liz," he offered. "Reddington is not a man you can trust."

She let out a humorless laugh. "And you are?"

"If it proves anything to you, I will give you these passports back right now."

She shot him an incredulous look. "Do you really think I'm so naïve as to fall for your act again?"

"No," he replied softly. "I think you're smart and brave and strong but you're also lost and need answers. Reddington won't give them to you but with my help you can get them yourself. You need me, Liz."

She steeled her jaw, both of them knowing he was right. "Get out."

"You know where to find me."

When he left, she found the passports lying on her coffee table.

~o~O~o~

She had no idea how long after he had left she sat in complete darkness, staring at one point on the wall. Afternoon had turned into dusk and dusk into night. She felt no hunger, no thirst, just an overpowering numbness. She had gotten a few answers but they led to so many more questions. Painful questions.

Suddenly she was on her feet. She grabbed a hoodie and a pair of training shoes and was off, no phone, no iPod, no gun, just a heavy weight in her heart. Her head was spinning and she thought she might choke. She ran until her legs started to ache and her lungs were on fire. When the first drops of rain came down on the city, she didn't stop. The hard-driving April rain slapped against her chest, face and hair as if it wanted to physically turn her away but she kept pushing forward. Rain started to come down in column after column, each drenching her more than the previous one. She took a moment to relish the feel of cold drops on her skin and made her way down the steps to a boulevard on the bank of the Potomac. She stepped over the river that began to rush wildly next to the curb and continued down the street. By the time she got to the boulevard, she was completely soaked, her hair hanging limply in long waves along her face and her mascara smudged under her eyes. A shiver ran down her spine as another rivulet of cold rainwater made its way behind her collar and down her back.

She came to stand on the boulevard beneath the unbound leaden skies and watched the heavy rain fall from the mournfully grey clouds. It seemed to reflect the chaos in her head perfectly. Her skin now shivering with an icy chill, she propped herself on the barrier and looked out into the choppy dark blue waters of the river and breathed in full lungs of the cold breeze coming from the ocean. She looked at the whirls and foamy waves, but her mind was wandering elsewhere.

Raindrops caressing her face camouflaged the angry tears that came unbidden to her eyes. She didn't stop them. She let the cracks in her nature, which were normally held together so tight by the surrounding pressures of her work and obligations, be bare and soak in the rain. When she loosened her grip on her thoughts, they immediately gravitated to him. She gave up trying to stop them. He seemed to be all she could think about these days. Not only because of work or the information she needed from. The truth was that he was the only person she could really talk to about Tom. About so many important things.

Apart from Sam, he was the person that knew her best, he knew _everything_ there was to know about her. And somewhere along the way, he had become not only an informant and an asset but a very important part of her life. The thing was, she sensed it wasn't like that for him. She knew she was many things to him but never just herself. Never just Lizzie. She was a means to an end. Penance for crimes committed long ago. A reminder of a dark past and fire.

The fire in which her father the spy had died. Had Red also been a spy? A member of the Cabal? Why was he there the night of the fire? Did…did he kill her father? Was that why he had been helping her from the shadows?

Suddenly a blue four-fingered hand of a luminous lightning grasped at the evening DC skyline and the wind coming from the river battered her shaking form. She pushed herself away from the barrier, looking around and trying to get her bearings. She had run farther than she thought.

When she managed to find a payphone a block away, there was only one number that came to her head. The only person that she knew would come for her, no questions asked or strings attached. She had thrown all that in his face today, even his concern for her safety. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering but her hands were shaking so badly she could barely dial the number. She knew it was not only from the rain and cold but also an overpowering fear. Fear that it had been him that night of the fire. And the realization how much she wished it wasn't true.

~o~O~o~

When the big black city car stopped by the curb ten minutes later, it wasn't Dembe who got out from behind the driver's wheel. Raymond Reddington, wearing a T-shirt and dark jeans, walked to her purposefully, concern etched on his face. Liz realized this was the first time she had seen him in something that wasn't a custom-made suit that cost more than a small town.

He looked more approachable like that. More touchable.

She gaped. "You own jeans?"

He took her miserable, drenched form in with disapproval. "Now is not the time to discuss my sartorial choices, Lizzie. You're freezing."

"You drove by yourself? I didn't know you even could."

"I had no choice. Dembe has a night out. And while driving is not my favorite pastime, I am perfectly capable, I can assure you."

The ride was a silent one and she didn't question it when instead of going to the motel, he took her to the posh apartment building he and Dembe were inhabiting this week. After showing her to her room, he gave her her space and left. She was not very surprised to find the room and the adjacent bathroom had a fine supply of clothes in her size, an equally impressive collection of bathroom supplies in all kinds of citrus notes that she so liked, and everything else she could need.

When she was finally feeling like a human being again, showered and wearing clean clothes, she got in the bed and covered herself with a thick layer of blankets to warm herself up. It wasn't helping as much as she would wish to and she was contemplating getting up to look for more blankets (which, she knew, Red had in abundance wherever he went) when she heard a soft knock.

She buried herself deeper under the covers. "Come in."

Red strolled in with a mug in his hand. "Is everything fine?"

"Yes, although I feel somewhat disturbed that you apparently carry around with you clothes and bathroom supplies for me."

He raised an eyebrow at her, asking teasingly, "Who ever said it was for you?"

She pursed her lips and motioned at the mug in his hand. "I haven't pinned you as a mug kind of guy. What's in there?"

"It's not mine, it's for you," he said, coming closer but still keeping his distance. "This one time I was in Austria many years ago, I got stranded after barely escaping an avalanche while skiing off piste. My elbow was sprained and it was getting dark, no hope of any rescue coming until morning. I thought I would freeze to death there on that slope. But then I heard barking and behind a magnificent German shepherd there appeared an equally magnificent Fraulein Margeritte. She set my elbow, brought me to her Schihütte and fed me this amazing warm-up concoction. I've been a fan ever since although I appreciated even more the other ways of warming up she showed me-"

"All right! All right! I've heard enough, just give me the damn drink," she interrupted, feeling her ears grow hot and taking the mug from his hands.

He gave her an amused smile, his eyebrow raised. "Be careful, it's quite strong. It has-"

"Exactly what I need," she interrupted, taking a big gulp and choking as the sweet strong liquid burned its way down her throat. "I didn't mean lighter fluid!" she exclaimed when she managed to get her voice back, eyeing both him and the mug with reproach.

"-Stroh," he finished, humor sparkling in his eyes. "A very strong Austrian rum so you should drink it slowly."

"Yeah, thanks for the warning," she said in between coughs.

"It will make you warm soon. Enjoy and have a good night, Lizzie," he said backing out.

She looked at his retreating back, putting the mug aside. She had treated him badly yet again today but at her first call, he had left everything and came for her, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, a fact that made it all the more unusual. And now when he smiled at her and teased her, it made her warm inside without the help of any rum. She could not ignore that.

"Red?"

After a beat came a guarded, "Yes?"

Maybe it was the strong alcohol already taking effect on her empty stomach or maybe it was something else altogether, but she asked, "Can you come back here for just a moment?"

He slowly walked back towards her bed, coming to perch uncomfortably on the very edge by her side. He waited for her to continue, her face half hidden in the darkness.

"I know my father was a member of the Cabal and he stole the Fulcrum in the first place." She noticed him stiffen but apart from that there was no sign from him he had even heard her.

After a long silence, he finally whispered, "It's not that simple, Lizzie."

"I won't ask you about it," she reserved. "You don't need to give me another speech about my safety. Honestly, I don't think I want to know any more now. I just need you to answer one question for me, Red. And I need you to tell me the truth."

_I have never lied to you_, came to echo through his thoughts and he cursed himself inwardly for taking his greatest advantage from himself so carelessly, the ability to talk himself out of almost anything, and handing it to her on a silver platter.

"Did you kill my real father?"

Her question hung between them in the complete silence that followed. Red seemed frozen and she wished she could see his face. Suddenly his voice cut through the dense void between them. It was low, gravelly and deadly serious.

"No."

She didn't doubt him for a second and the huge relief washing over her at his denial told her more about her feelings than any words ever could. She realized how much she had hoped that would be his answer and how much she had feared it wouldn't be. If it wasn't, she would never be able to get over it, and the thought of him disappearing from her life brought about the worst nightmares.

She looked back at him, his head hung low and his hands clasped tightly together as if he was holding himself back.

When I fall asleep, I have nightmares about you," she said quietly.

He swallowed at the sudden change in topic, a sudden roaring in his ears making it difficult to focus. He had been witness to one of those nightmares not long ago so it wasn't anything new to him but nothing could prepare him for the shock of hearing her admit it out loud. This conversation had already shaken him up more than he thought it ever could but to learn at the end of it that she was afraid of him-

His vision blurry, he couldn't bring himself to look up at her so instead he focused his gaze on his hands. On the colourful pattern on the carpet. His sock-clad feet. Anything but the frightened, disgusted look on her face that he was sure was there.

When she spoke again, it was in a louder voice, "You're always there protecting me, and getting hurt. That's when I start to scream."

What? He blinked, his damp startled eyes coming up to meet her gaze.

She gave him a small, broken smile. "I am furious with you. I hate that you keep things from me and manipulate me and think it's OK since you're doing it to protect me. But on some level, I think I knew about Tom, about the fire, all of it, for a long time. I'm furious because you haven't told me yourself. Because I had to find out from _Tom_. I'm furious about this whole situation."

And she should be. He expected no less. He wanted to look away but found he couldn't, his eyes glued to hers.

"Still, that doesn't mean I've stopped caring about you."

He stared at her, too startled to move a single muscle.

"That's not how it works," she continued, seemingly unaware of his sudden complete stillness. "When someone you care about screws up, you get angry, don't speak to them, maybe punch something or have a long run in the cold rain but you don't give them up," she said. "This is not what's going on here."

He was speechless. She took in his startled expression and continued, "So I'm going to be mad with you for a time. I need to stay angry and you need to let me…but I won't abandon you, Red."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," he finally managed to choke out. It was so inadequate, so incomparable to the gravity of her words that he wanted to drop to his knees and apologize over and over but then her hand was on his.

"I know," she said softly.

The shadows under his eyes grew deeper with the late hour, and the harsh light streaming through the window next to the bed seemed to add to the weight of guilt and anguish he was carrying on his shoulders.

"I know," she repeated. "And I want to work through this. I just need some time."

"Take all the time you need," he said softly. _I don't deserve it but if it means you can ever truly forgive me for barging into your life bringing nothing but chaos and death, take all the time in the _world_. I'll be waiting._

Not trusting his voice, he squeezed her hand lightly and got up. "Go to sleep now, Lizzie," he finally managed, his voice low and husky with the strain not to reveal too much emotion. He needed to get out of there or he would not be able to keep hold on his expression for her not to see too much. He quickly got up and headed to the door.

"Goodnight, Ray," she replied sleepily.

He froze in the doorway with his back to her, his hand stiffening on the door handle. When he slowly turned, she was with her back to him, already sound asleep. He wasn't sure she even realized she had called him by his first name but he would keep this moment in the confines of his vast memory forever. He locked the door quietly behind him and allowed a smile, a genuine happy smile he hadn't enjoyed in a long while, crease his lips.

_tbc._

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_If you liked this, please don't forget to review - reviews help me write better:) And are so much fun to read!_


	7. Chapter 7

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** Honestly, you guys, I'm thinking of just taking all the reviews and putting them on my wall. They make me glow with happiness. Really. It makes all the time and effort totally worth it :D

As always, my special thanks go out to _inmate23 _for her invaluable feedback and encouragement!

Plus, a shout-out to fellow Blacklist writer _Michelle My Belle_ – you know what for:) If you haven't checked out her stories yet, I recommed you do, they're great!

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine.

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**Chapter 7**

Liz woke up slowly, well-rested and calm like she hadn't felt in a long while. Not opening her eyes, she let herself languish in the last strands of sleep still clinging to her as the events of yesterday came back to her hour by hour. Tom and his revelations about her real father. The passports he had left behind to her bewilderment. A crazy jog through Washington in the rain. And Red. There for her yet again. That terrible drink. Her relief at knowing he hadn't killed her real father. And then-

Ray.

Suddenly her eyes flew wide open, all remnants of sleep forgotten. She had called him by his first name. It shouldn't be that big of a deal only it was. In that one word she had admitted out loud to him and to herself that she didn't think of him anymore as Red Reddington, number four Most Wanted, the Concierge of Crime, but as Ray, a flesh-and-blood man who had become a part of her life, a person who she felt comfortable enough with to call when she needed help, confide in when she was a mess, and scream at when he disappointed or angered her (the last case being the most frequent one).

She didn't just care about him. If he were to disappear right now, he would leave a gaping hole in her life that she wouldn't know how to fill. She couldn't define the place he occupied in her head and her heart but she knew it kept growing every day and whatever she did, it didn't seem to stop. But there was still this chasm between them made of broken memories and unanswered questions, this crazy game of chess they were playing. He was there the night of the fire. He didn't kill her father but what role had he played that night? Why was she so special to him? There were still so many things he wouldn't tell her. So many things she needed to learn before she could stop and think about anything else, especially the tangled mess of her conflicting feelings towards him.

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet grunt to the side and she looked in the direction of the sound. Her eyes focused on the immobile figure slouched in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, half-sitting half-lying in an armchair a couple of feet from her bed.

She slid from under her covers and threw on the bathrobe that was waiting for her on the dresser next to her bed. She went to the bathroom and when she came back, she quietly padded towards Red's still asleep form. He was still in jeans and the T-shirt he had come for her the night before. He even had his shoes on, a sad reminder he was a man on the run, always ready to get on the road on a moment's notice.

She stood close to the armchair, undecided whether to wake him up. The dark circles under his eyes were proof enough that he didn't sleep well or deeply so instead of shaking him awake, she crouched next to him, allowing herself a rare moment to study him without him knowing. This was the second time in so many days that she was allowed a glimpse of Red without his armor of suits, charm and parables, and she wasn't going to miss such an opportunity.

Like when he had slept by her hospital bed, this time he also seemed tense, determined, ready for action. But above all else, he just seemed so…human. So ordinary. Not the larger than life persona he put between himself and the world as a shield, but a normal man with strengths and weaknesses, good and bad sides like any other. She felt a familiar ache settle in her chest as she watched him. Her broken, dark guardian angel in a fedora.

Suddenly a chill ran through her and she stood up, a purpose to her movements. As always wherever Red lived, several blankets lay neatly folded in the wardrobe. Such a prosaic thing, from the very first time she had heard about this apparent quirk of his, her profiler's sense told her there was more behind it. Far from being just another eccentricity as he liked to advertise it, it spoke of his deep desire for security. At night, Red Reddington needed the warmth of a blanket to feel safe. The fact that this hardened criminal, this world-wise and extravagant man could need something as trivial as blankets, or someone as plain as her, was mind-boggling even now after almost two years of knowing him. But it was also such a human, natural thing. Everyone needed safety, and she herself knew that craving all too well.

She took out two thickest blankets out of the wardrobe and put them snugly around him. As she arranged the material over his shoulders, she let the backs of her fingers graze the outline of his jaw ever so gently and linger there for just a moment. She had never touched his face before and the curiosity got the better of her. She let her thumb catch on the slight stubble on the edge of his jaw and even this butterfly of a touch elicited sparks sizzling through her skin. Suddenly she realized she couldn't hear his breathing and he was eerily immobile as if-

With an exasperated sigh, she straightened up and crossed her hands over her chest.

"You're pouting, Lizzie," Red remarked in an amused, perfectly-awake tone, his eyes still closed.

She quickly drew her lips in a thin line. "How long have you been awake?" she asked, vexed.

He opened his eyes, humorous sparks dancing in his gaze as he looked at her standing over him, irritation emanating from her in waves.

"I'm not a very deep sleeper," he deflected, deciding it was wise not to tell he had been awake long before she even got up from bed.

In his long years in the criminal underworld he had mastered the art of sleeping without actually falling asleep. His sleep was always vigil and never deep, and he couldn't remember when he slept more than three hours at once. Not that his nightmares would let him anyway. That was why her screams brought him to her room instantly in the night. Still, all his vigilance went through the window as no amount of training could ever prepare him for the completely riveting yet unexpected feeling of her fingers on his skin. It took all of his considerable self-possession not to jump at the electrical sparks that went through him at the contact. Still, it was definitely better to keep all that to himself. His face was still tingling pleasantly from her touch and he preferred not to change the delightful sensation for a rather different kind of tingling, like one coming from a punch in the jaw.

Her embarrassment at being caught made her snappy, "Don't you have your own bed?"

"As a matter of fact I do," he replied moving the blankets a little to the side to straighten his arms. "But you wouldn't let me rest in it. You were screaming so bad, Lizzie, that I thought you were being skinned alive in here. It must have been a really bad nightmare. So I stayed with you and it seemed to calm you down."

She swallowed and put her arms tighter around herself. She didn't remember a thing. "When I was a child, that was what Sam did when I had nightmares about the fire. He would sleep in an armchair next to my bed and it always helped," she recalled, her surprise turning into a tired realization. "But of course you knew that."

"Sam was much younger, though," he remarked lightly and sat up straighter in the armchair, wincing in the process. "I'm sorry to say I'm not as sprightly as I used to be. Or they don't make armchairs as comfortable as they used to." He let out a hiss as he worked his fingers on his nape, trying to untangle an unpleasant knot that had settled there.

"Well, you can thank yourself for that," she said without remorse. "It was probably because of that god-awful lighter fluid of a drink you gave me yesterday."

He chuckled. "Still, you were out like a candle in seconds."

"Hmpf," she replied eloquently.

There was a soft knock on the door, and after a moment, Dembe came in with a phone.

"Raymond. You were waiting for this one."

Red straightened up even more in the armchair and took the phone from him.

"How did you sleep?" Dembe asked Liz as Red spoke with his caller in hushed tones.

"Surprisingly well, contrary to what it must have seemed to you, though. I'm sorry if I woke you up, too," she said apologetically, her eyes drifting off towards Red.

"Don't worry about it. Among us, there is no such thing as undisturbed sleep. You get used to little sleep. You can't ever get really used to nightmares, though," he said, his voice wistful and his gaze shifting towards Red. Liz's eyes followed his. "But since you started working with him, he is better. Calmer. Lighter. I think he is even beginning to like the person he is when he's with you."

Liz felt a vise slowly close around her heart. She highly doubted Dembe's words. Most of the time, she argued with him, challenged him and threw everything he did for her in his face. Hardly what you would call a positive influence.

"-and he seems to have a calming effect on you," Dembe continued. "At least when you're asleep and he's not actually interacting with you," he reserved.

She chuckled, relieved at the change of subject. "Yeah, that's probably the only instance, though."

His lips creased upwards. She really liked when he smiled, it lit up his whole face and the whole space around him. She couldn't help but smile back.

"I remember that one time in New Orleans when-" Dembe, in an uncharacteristical bout of loquaciousness, launched into a story about one of his and Red's exploits that soon had Liz in stitches.

"When you're finished exchanging notes about me," Red's somewhat miffed voice cut through their cheer and they both looked at him. "-maybe we can actually start the day," he finished somewhat sourly and offered the mobile back to his bodyguard. "Dembe, call Grisson and tell him to arrange everything for today."

Once Dembe left, Red turned his gaze on Liz.

"Dembe has a flair for dramatics and is a hopeless romantic at heart," he remarked. "You may want to take anything he says in private matters with a fistful of salt."

"He only told me about that one time you were both pursuing this salsa dancer in New Orleans but she turned out to be a he," she said with a straight face.

"Ah, yes, good times," Red let out a laugh, shaking his head. "I was so sure of myself and couldn't understand why she wasn't responding to my advances."

"I suppose that doesn't happen often," Liz remarked, her voice a bit tight. She could imagine that once Red really turned on his formidable charm on someone, they usually didn't even know what hit them.

That led her to an uncalled-for yet clear conclusion – Red didn't want her. He just wanted someone, the Cabal probably, to see her rejecting him, time and again. All his innuendos, all this cat and mouse were a half-hearted attempt, just another act in the game he was playing with the clandestine organization. Because if he did really want her, she would probably not stand a chance, either. She felt her cheeks bloom at the realization, and then a tightness around her throat. Since when did she think of Red in these categories?

"I was arrogant," Red's deep voice broke her train of thought. She couldn't be more grateful. "But it was a valuable lesson," he added and seemed to fall deep in thought. Then suddenly he chuckled, satisfied with something, and his gaze was back on her. "Do you know how the fox got the cheese from the crow, Lizzie?"

She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"He used his vanity and pride against him."

Liz rolled her eyes, not in the mood for another of Red's parables. "It's too early for me to even try to understand what you're saying," she said and wrapped her bathrobe tighter around herself. "I need coffee." With that, she turned towards the door.

"Lizzie," his voice stopped her. There was no trace of his earlier facetiousness; something deep and raw had taken its place.

She pivoted slowly on her heel.

"Thank you for the blankets," he said softly. "You didn't have to."

"I know," she admitted. "But I wanted to."

~o~O~o~

"You should really try to get out of the stereotype for the locations for these clandestine meetings, Tom," Red remarked with a shiver of disgust as he breathed in the musty air of the space he was led to by Connolly's men. "Believe me when I say that contrary to common belief, dank old warehouses are _not_ the best places to conduct business."

"The Fulcrum," the other man said without introductions. "Do you have it?"

"Good morning to you, too, Tom."

"I haven't come here to exchange pleasantries with you," Connolly snapped impatiently

Red smiled pleasantly and gave him an innocent look. "Why? Is there somewhere you need to be?"

Connolly clenched his jaw. He was taking his pledge as DA in under an hour and he was pretty sure Reddington was aware of it as keenly as he himself was. He was making a point that he had the upper hand. But only for now. When the Cabal finally offered him a place at the table, he would make it his life's goal to hunt Reddington down and rub that smug smirk off his face.

"How about I offer you a better deal?" Red said, clasping his hands behind his back.

"There is no deal. There are just my conditions and if you don't fulfill them-"

"Yes, yes, I know," Red chirped in snarkily. "You will wreak terrible vengeance on me. For the sake of both our busy schedules, let's just skip the feeble threat part of the banter altogether and get down to business, shall we?"

"There is no business," Connolly said. "And I don't think you are taking me entirely seriously, Reddington."

"Believe me, I'm taking you very seriously," Red assured him, a dangerous undertone to his voice that sent an unpleasant chill down the other man's spine. "If I weren't, we would be having an entirely different conversation."

The silence that followed was only interrupted by Red's laugh. "Don't worry, Tom, no harm will come to you! Despite your strange taste in meeting places, I want to do business with you," he gave him a piercing gaze. "You obviously want an in with the Cabal."

Connolly blinked. How the hell did he-

"I can offer you that."

"I don't need your offers," he said after a while of stunned silence.

"Oh, I think you do," Red assured him, narrowing his eyes at him. "If you want to stay alive, you do."

"What-"

"Do you really expect you will just walk in to the director's office, announce you have the Fulcrum and demand a place at the table? Do you think the director will open his arms and make you his right hand?" Red asked not really expecting an answer. He saw in Connolly's eyes that was exactly what he was planning to do. "He will kill you, your family and everyone you ever bought a newspaper from," he stated blandly and saw that had never occurred to the other man.

Red would be only too happy to let that unfold but apart from the fact of making the director aware Red no longer had the Fulcrum himself, Connolly had a sword hanging over Lizzie's neck. In order to save her, Red's strategy needed to be more refined. For now. A bit of crude force never hurt a good plan.

"The Fulcrum is a target on your back. It won't help you to get into the Cabal," Red continued, seeing he had already managed to cast doubt in Connolly's mind. "If you tell the director you have it, he'll kill you faster than you can say 'I solemnly swear'. If you threaten to use it against him, he will also kill you but slowly and painfully. I can spare you both and get you in without all the killing business."

"How?"

Red allowed a small twitch crease the corner of his mouth upwards. "Do we have a deal?"

"I- I need to think about this."

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," Red enunciated. "This is a one-time offer. If I walk out of here now, the next time we see each other won't be quite so benevolent."

"And what if I say no? I will have no scruples revealing everything I have on Agent Keen the moment I get back to my office."

"Oh, I know you have no scruples," Red chuckled. "But I also know you're not stupid. That's why you won't deal your last – your _only_ – ace and forsake your only chance to get in with the Cabal. Think about it, Tom. Is some ordinary field FBI agent worth losing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? You can be a powerful man, Tom, if you let yourself."

Connolly clenched his teeth, fear fighting with greed and lust for power in his gaze.

Red looked at his watch and raised an eyebrow at him. "Well? I don't have all day, Tom."

"All right," he finally relinquished.

Red gave him a bright smile. "Good decision," he approved with a nod and turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing, Tom," he added casually on his way out. "Agent Keen. Everything you have, you give up to me."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?"

"I keep my word. No harm will come to you from my hand."

"You get me in, you get Agent Keen's file."

"Very well. You'll be hearing from me soon," he offered over his shoulder.

Only when he got into his car did he allow himself a satisfied smile. The crow took the bait.

As the car started, Red caught Dembe's uneasy glance in the rearview mirror. He narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"

Dembe handed him a tablet. "Footage from yesterday."

As he watched the video, Red's face grew still and placid. The only sign that what he saw had any effect on him was the grim, tortured look that darkened his eyes.

~o~O~o~

"What is this place?" Liz asked, somewhat bewildered upon entering Red's hideaway of the week. It was unbearably opulent and you could build a car with the all the steel and chrome sticking from every surface. Or a locomotive. And then there were the two statues of naked Greek gods framing the entry to the living room from both sides, their proud masculinity in full display. She grimaced and quickly swept past them into the room.

"No one I know personally," came the reply. Red was standing close to one of the huge bay windows overlooking the river, only in his shirtsleeves and vest, a drink in his hand. "And from what I've seen so far I doubt I'd ever want to know. But I have to admit the bathroom is _divine_. I never knew there were so many kinds of bubble bath," he continued in an upbeat manner. "Can I offer you anything, Lizzie? Food? Drink? Bubble bath?" he asked smiling with his customary composure.

She narrowed her eyes at him, taking the time to examine him more carefully. His tone was casual and his expression urbane as always but it seemed uncharacteristically stilted. Her suspicions were confirmed when he stepped closer and out of the half-shadow near the window. The fine network of lines in the corners of his eyes was more pronounced than usual and his lips formed a grim line. He didn't make eye contact with her and there was a resigned tiredness in the angle of his shoulders and the way he held himself. He looked sad. Old and sad. She felt a pang in her heart. She had seen him like this before, when she hurt or rejected him. Or when something had gone horribly wrong.

"What's going on?" she asked, anxiety coloring her tone. "A new blacklister?"

He let out a humorless chuckle. "There is nothing new about this one."

She looked at him, still not sure what this was about. "Red?"

"Tom Keen," he stated coming closer to her, the gravel in his voice making her squirm inwardly.

Schooling her features into something hopefully neutral, she faced him, now guarded. "What about him?"

The second she saw the press of his lips following the working of his jaw, she realized he knew about her seeing Tom.

"I thought we went through this once already," he said gently. "You do remember how it ended the last time you kept Tom's continued presence in your life a secret from me?"

"Are you scolding me?" she asked incredulously, feeling anger starting to rise within her. "Again?"

"Yes, I am, Lizzie," he confirmed. "And you haven't denied it, either," he pointed out. There was no anger in his voice, just a disappointed tiredness and resignation that somehow weighed on her more than all the angry words in the world he could throw at her. "This sort of reckless behavior-"

"Don't you dare call me reckless!" she exclaimed reproachfully. "I told you I would find the truth on my own since you refuse to tell me and that's what I'm doing!"

He took a deep breath and stepped back. He gave her a sour look, his mouth pinched as if he was considering but trying not to say something cruel. "And what have you found out so far?"

"Was my father a member of the Cabal?"

Red's face froze in that strange, calm expression he so often employed. The only sign that he had heard her was the minuscule twitch under his left eye.

"I see Tom has become truly desperate to stay in your life if he's feeding you such information. And you let him," he added.

"What else am I supposed to do if you won't talk to me? If you won't help me?" she asked, the sharp edges of her words blunted somewhat by the silent plea that bled into her tone. "He does."

He sighed. "Lizzie, usually I don't ask questions I already don't know the answer to but I'm going to make an exception," he said. "Are you still in love with Tom Keen?"

The question was like a slap to her face. He himself pushed her in Tom's direction when he refused to give her answers, and now he had the audacity to not only reproach her for it but throw it in her face. What hurt most, though, was that he obviously thought her weak and stupid enough to run back to Tom at the first possibility. He must think her so damaged and spineless if he believed she could still have deeper feelings for a man who had hurt her, lied to her, and betrayed her.

Unbidden, angry tears came to her eyes but she wouldn't let them fall. Red knew her so well, knew everything there was to know about her, how could he already not know this? Not see it? Because even for her, it was all starting to click into place. And it hurt so much. She wouldn't let him see that, though.

Her blue eyes turning almost black, she steeled her jaw. "Screw you," she spat and stormed out.

She sat in her car for a long while, with her head propped against the steering wheel and the tears falling freely, half-hoping and half-fearing Red would come after her. He didn't.

When she was sure she was able to drive, she dialed Ressler. He was a bit surprised because bars usually weren't her thing but he must have heard the desperate tone in her voice and promised he'd meet her at Joe's in fifteen.

When Donald got there some time later than promised due to some nasty traffic, he saw the unmistakable red-and-blue of police sirens cutting sharply through the night gloom that had settled over the capital. An unpleasant feeling settled in his stomach and he stopped his car in the middle of the street, not caring about the honking from behind him. He vaulted himself out of the car, speeding towards the police cars and flashing his badge to the uniforms guarding the perimeter.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes.

Liz's car was wrapped around a lamppost, its left side riddled with bullet holes.

_tbc._

* * *

I'm sorry for the cliff-hanger (ducks behind her computer)! I promise the update will come soon as I now have the rest of the story pretty much outlined and ready to go so I hope you'll stay tuned.

Oh, and reviews make smiles:-)

_Red refers to a fable by Aesop 'The Fox and the Crow'._


	8. Chapter 8

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** I don't have the words to express how touched I am by each review and alert. Please just know that your words mean a lot. Really. Now you go on to your reading and I'll meet you at the bottom.

Also, special thank you to the one-and-only _inmate23_, and also a shout-out to two amazing fellow Blacklist writers_, Literary Bitca_ and _Michelle My Belle_!

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine, though not for a lack of trying...;)

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Liz opened her heavy eyelids tentatively but closed them quickly against the onslaught of light that assaulted her eyes. She took a deep, steadying breath and tried again, this time more slowly. Better. She took a couple more calming breaths, waiting for the world to swirl into place. When it finally did, she took a look around her surroundings. No windows, no furniture save a dirty metal table in the corner, a solid metal door on the wall opposite her and a lonely dirty light bulb hanging dejectedly from the ceiling.

She tried to shift her weight on the uncomfortable metal chair she was seated in but there was a chain pinned to a metal loop over her head, binding her hands tightly on the sides of her head. Still, when she put one hand up, she could pull the chain through the loop by stretching her other hand, which gave a bigger range and she could almost straighten her hand in front of her. That was how she managed to touch her fingertips to her right temple. She could feel a layer of crusted blood underneath and she winced at the pain radiating through her whole head at the touch.

She remembered the black Humvee coming out of nowhere showering her car with bullets. Her jeep stood no chance. She still managed to stay on the road but when the tank of a car rammed into her side, she lost control of the steering wheel and collided with a nearby lamppost. Thank God by that time her car was considerably slowed down so the force of the impact wasn't as powerful as to kill her, but it still knocked her out. The last thing she recalled was the breath-taking pain of her face crashing against the air bag. She definitely had a concussion and although nothing seemed broken, she was positive at least one of her ankles was at least sprained and a rib or two cracked.

It was painful to breathe and she shivered. She was barefoot, stripped down to her underwear and left to bleed in silence, not even a Band-Aid on her injuries. No concern for her physical state, no respect for her dignity. She knew what Red would do to anyone who treated her like this. What Red was going to do.

At the thought of Red, a brand new sort of pain shot through her. Not a physical one but all the worse for it. For what she had told him, he should just let her rot in here but she knew his care for her was completely unconditional and uncontrollable. He would come, no matter what. More than that, now that her emotions weren't as high, she was starting to understand why Red was so hell-bent on not giving her the answers she wanted. It didn't make her hate it any less, though.

This was how Red survived – by always having something to trade. That was how he got a foot in the door when he showed up on her doorstep, as well. He raised a plethora of questions and lured her with the promise of answers. For a good long while it was why she kept holding on to him, sheer curiosity, not deep feelings. The truth was, Raymond Reddington had scared her. For all his charm and smiles and quirky stories, he was the number four, a legendary criminal and traitor who had eluded capture by some of the most skilled secret agents in the world for more than two decades. She had witnessed first hand on many occasions what he was capable of, and most of it was unconscionable. When she had called him a monster, she really believed it. But that all seemed like such a long time ago. Before she had seen in Red's blacklisters what _real_ monsters looked like and how evil and degenerate a human being could become. Before she had been hurt and betrayed by the man who was supposed to be there for good and for worse, to love her till the end of time.

She head learned and seen so much since then. The world was not black and white. Every monster had a soul and every saint had a shadow. And at some point her monster ceased to be a ruthless, unfeeling criminal and became a broken, damaged man forced into the life of crime by a dark past he hid so skillfully under a mask of charm and bravado.

Once that realization had settled inside her mind and soul, she could no longer simply ignore the depth of his devotion to her, the unwavering faith with which he stood by her side, always there to protect her, no matter what she threw at him. The warmth in his voice when he spoke her name. The way she sometimes caught him looking at her, as if she hung the moon and the stars.

She wasn't by half as skilled an actress as he was an actor and surely he had noticed the change in her attitude. The way she was cold and warm and cold again, even more volatile than usual. How emotionally she reacted to his half-truths and manipulations these days. How could she not, she _cared_. She cared so much that she was starting to lose control. And the more she tried to fight it, the more powerless she became. That should scare her but it didn't and _that_ scared her. Curiosity and thirst for answers was still there, but it had been pushed away by something deeper. That was why it hurt and affected her so much that he had so little faith in her as to think she would mindlessly swoon back into Tom's arms. That he didn't trust her with his plans and treated her like a little girl sometimes.

However confused and conflicted she was about her feelings, she was completely sure of his and if there was one thing she did know, it was that he would always, _always_ come for her. That gave her strength and breathed a new life into her battered body. It was not a moment too late because the next thing she knew, the heavy metal door was swinging open.

The man who came in was thin and lanky, his hair was spiked like some boy-band pre-madonna, and something about his eyes was very disturbing. He carried a gun in his hand. He eyed her appraisingly, swirling the keys he held in his other hand with a lewd expression. She swallowed. She gave him her best suggestive look, opening her mouth a little and moving her legs apart. It was a risky plan but she had no choice.

She didn't have to wait long for the bait to work. The thug licked his lips, a lecherous smile creeping onto his mouth that made her almost physically sick. He put the keys and his gun away on the metal table and closed in on her, opening his belt. She carefully registered his every movement, strung up like a string and ready for action. The moment he placed his hand on the chair in between her legs, she closed them with all the strength she had, trapping his hand. Taken completely by surprise, he didn't even know what hit him when she head-butted him and managed to grab one end of his open belt as he fell unconscious, winding it around her hand. It took her a couple of tries but she managed to whip the belt around one of the table legs and tug it within her reach. She opened the shackles with the keys and took the gun. The man was coming to but she silenced him with a swift kick to the head.

She locked the door behind her and took a look around. It was silent, eerily so. A waft of fresh air enveloped her and she took the direction it was coming from. She hurt her bare feet on the steel grid that covered the floor and her sprained ankle protested at the strain but she pushed forward. The smell of fresh air was getting more intense, and the cold feel of the gun in her hand grounded her.

She pushed through yet another door and her breath caught, her lungs expanding her cracked ribs painfully. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dazzling daylight and with a start she looked into the vast space of the ocean surrounding her from all sides, no shore in sight.

She was on a ship, taking her away from home, from safety, from Red, with a wave-breaking speed. Sea foam covered her face with a delicate mist and she took a deep breath. She couldn't swim the ocean back to Washington but she could give Red some more time to find her. She steeled her jaw and took a step back, closing the steel door behind her and disappearing back into the ship's bowels.

~o~O~o~

He sat alone in the darkness, an almost empty tumbler with golden liquid in his hand. His armchair was facing the night, which stretched out its long fingers into the room, enveloping him and filling him with a deep, tired sadness. It was late, the greenery outside turned charcoal and two dimensional, and the grey road under the window melting into the night. The silence after the door had crashed behind her was of that suffocating, devouring kind that sucked out all the light and color from the room. He knew it well. It wasn't the first time she had lashed out like that after all, and he couldn't blame her.

He kept her on her toes, in a state of constant danger and uncertainty, giving her just snippets of information, and it was taking its toll on her. He couldn't tell her the whole truth because he knew he wouldn't be able to bear to see the look of contempt and hatred in her eyes once she knew. He couldn't make himself drive her away like this, cut that hold he still had on her because this way, she at least allowed him to remain a part of her life. Even if it wasn't as an actual person, someone she cared about, but as an asset, source of information. It was still better than not being in her life at all. He had hidden his feelings from her for so long, allowing her to believe she was an obsession, a puppet, a means to an end. That was his strategy.

He had never expected this to happen, though. He was the master of self-control and emotional detachment was his specialty. He couldn't have survived as long as he had otherwise. When he had started this game, carefully constructed his blacklist, he had a clear goal in mind and she was supposed to be just another piece of the puzzle. Of course he expected to grow fond of her, she was his dear friend's daughter after all, but nothing could have prepared him for Hurricane Lizzie. For how quickly and effortlessly she would push her way through all his walls, all his defenses. He couldn't recall when her thinking the worst of him stopped being amusing., and his interest in her had deepened and changed. Pragmatism had given way to passion. From an asset, she became a liability. The greatest vulnerability to a man who had none for twenty years.

He couldn't give her the answers she craved for fear of driving her away but by doing so, he drove her into Tom's arms. The irony wasn't lost on him and he let out a mirthless laugh. He deserved nothing more.

He took another deep swig out of the crystal tumbler in his hand, hoping the alcohol would burn away the bitterness in his mouth and give him the courage for what he had to do next. He had the Fulcrum and he would proceed as planned. He would disappear from Lizzie's life and let her live it as she deserved, with a good honest man at her side and a dozen of laughing blue-eyed children.

There was a soft knock on the door. Dembe had learned a long time ago it was best not to interrupt him after the loud standoffs between him and Lizzie so it had to be something really important. The ice in the already empty tumbler jingled as he moved to put it away. He sat up straighter as his bodyguard approached him and wordlessly handed him a phone.

"Hello, Mr. Reddington," came Tom Connolly's cheerful greeting from the other side.

An unsettling feeling of premonition crept up Red's back. He didn't like the self-satisfied note in the other man's voice.

"Tom," Red said evenly. "To what do I owe this call?" he asked pleasantly, his tone bland. "Really, if you're lonely and need someone to talk to in the evenings, I can recommend a really good therapist."

"I'm afraid it might be Agent Keen who will be in need of a therapist pretty soon," the reply came in clipped tones. Red felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. "If she survives, that is."

"What did you do, Tom?" Red asked after a beat, this time fighting to keep his tone level against the knot forming in his throat.

"I'm just making sure you keep your end of the bargain," the other man replied innocently. "You may want to turn on the news."

Red reached for the remote and swallowed as big headlines of "FBI Agent presumed dead in a car crash" assaulted his eyes. His hand constricted on the phone, his knuckles going white.

"Don't worry, she's not dead," Connolly assured him. "Not yet. As soon as you make good on your promise, she will be returned…more or less unscathed. If not, you'll be looking for parts of her in the sea for the next month."

"You must be so much fun at parties, Tom," Red said caustically. "That was not our deal," he added, a steely edge to his voice.

"You can hardly expect me to just _trust_ a criminal kingpin and traitor, now can you?" he asked scathingly. "So I hope you don't hold this against me, Mr. Reddington. After all, business is business. I'm sure you would have done the same thing in my situation."

Red let out a short humorless laugh. "You can be sure of that."

"I'll be in contact."

Red was out of his armchair and through the door before he even switched off the phone. "Dembe, give me Mr. Hoffinger. We are going to be in need of his services."

As he got into his city car and Dembe started the engine, he looked through the window, chewing on his cheek. The only way to get Lizzie back required involving the last man on earth he wanted within a hundred miles of her, the last person he wanted to know of any connection between her and himself. He had to make a deal with the devil, and the devil would know the instant Red crossed his threshold. But that couldn't be avoided anymore. Right now Lizzie was somewhere out there, held captive, alone and possibly injured at the mercy of some thugs, and that trumped everything else. Getting her back was an absolute priority and once he knew she was safe, he would deal with the rest.

~o~O~o~

This time Liz moved in the opposite direction, heading as far up as possible to get to where she suspected the ship's bridge was. There weren't many guards around, they obviously weren't expecting much resistance from a single unarmed woman locked up in the hangar so it was quite easy for her to make her way through the ship. It would have been even easier if her head wasn't pounding and she had some shoes on but she clenched her teeth and pushed forward.

When she got high enough on the stairs to reach the bridge, she heard voices and huddled behind one of the two massive doors that led up.

"Connolly just called. We may need to proceed to the next phase of the plan," one male voice was saying and Liz took in a surprised breath. _Connolly_? This couldn't be a coincidence.

"Dave is really quiet," a second voice remarked. "He went to bring her some food and should have been back by now. I'll get one of the guys to check on him."

That was her cue. She had to act now or-

"What do we have here?" came from behind her and a pair of strong hands grabbed her around the waist. She managed to get a well-placed elbow into her attacker's side but it seemed to make no impression on him whatsoever and he continued to squeeze so hard that she felt her already weakened ribs start to give under the pressure. She saw black spots dance in front of her eyes and the gun slipped from her grip.

There were hurried steps coming from the bridge and she made a desperate attempt to get away from her captor but it was already too late.

"What the hell is this! What is she doing here!"

"Jesus, you'll crush her, let her go!" came the command and Liz found herself crumpling to the floor, desperately catching her breath, her ribs and lungs on fire. "Remember our orders. She is not to be harmed. Yet."

"You, don't stand there like this, get her back to the holding room. And this time she won't get away," the other voice said, and she felt a needle being unceremoniously pushed into her right shoulder.

Then she knew no more.

~o~O~o~

"This is a rather unexpected visit, Mr. Reddington," the Director gazed at him over his rimless glasses with mild interest.

Red sat himself comfortably opposite his desk and crossed his legs. "There is a rat trying to dig his way into your nest," he announced without preamble.

"And you're informing me about this because-?"

"Because he's become rather…annoying," Red said with a dissatisfied pout. "And you know what will happen if I get annoyed."

The Director moved uncomfortably in his chair. "Why won't you get rid of him yourself?"

Red's face remained immobile.

"Ah. I heard on the news. Agent Keen. Of course," the other man nodded knowingly, a sly smile passing through his lips. "But tell me, why would I do that? He's obviously causing more trouble for you than he is for us right now. I'm fine with that."

Red drew himself up somewhat, allowing a little tic to flicker in the corner of his mouth. "I am a known agent. You know what you can expect from me. We are locked in a standstill and neither of us can move without the other falling with him. Connolly, on the other hand, is unpredictable. He knows about the Fulcrum and who knows what he'll do next. Are you willing to risk it? How much of a gambler are you?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

"While I do agree with you," the Director admitted, his expression taut. "I'm afraid I will have to call your bluff, Mr. Reddington. Prove to me you have the Fulcrum, then we can talk about any tit-for-tat."

Red gave him a thin smile. "Make sure you have a good look at tomorrow's morning papers," he said and swept away from the room.

"Wait."

~o~O~o~

When Liz opened her eyes, a sense of disorientation more intense than any she had ever experienced washed over her. She felt incredibly light, as if she were floating five feet above the ground. There was no sense of time or space and she felt no pain, just an overwhelming numbness.

The mercenaries were coming in and out every couple of hours now, checking her bounds and injecting her with new doses of the drug. At least as far as she could tell, she was half-conscious for the most of it.

But when the door opened this time, something was off. She blinked, trying to see the man standing completely still in the door, his silhouette outlined by the light coming from the corridor. Suddenly the lights in the cell turned on and she blinked rapidly, trying to get the blurriness away from her vision. She shook her head a little to get the last black spots out of her line of sight and looked at the man again. Her breath caught in her throat.

"_Tom_?"

_tbc._

* * *

Another cliffhanger, sort of, I know, but we are slowly drawing to an end so everything will become clear in a matter of several chapters.

I hope you've enjoyed this installment and you know the drill – reviews make smiles!

_* When I wrote Liz kicking the slimy thug's a**, I had in mind the scene from the movie 'Lucy' with Scarlett Johansson doing pretty much the same to escape her captors - a really good fight scene that is and I can see Liz pulling it off:)_


	9. Chapter 9

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N: **Thank you to everyone for your amazing reviews, alerts and faves, they made my day and all I can say is – more please!

Also, a big thank you to the amazing _inmate23,_ who puts up with my insecurities and sometimes bad timing;)

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine, nope.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_I know you're an emotional girl  
It took a lot for you to not lose your faith in this world  
I can't offer you proof  
But you're going to face a moment of truth  
It's hard when you're always afraid  
You just recover when another belief is betrayed  
So break my heart if you must  
It's a matter of trust_

_You can't go the distance  
With too much resistance  
I know you have doubts  
But for God's sake don't shut me out_

_Billy Joel - A Matter Of Trust_

"_Tom_?"

To say she would sooner expect the Cookie Monster to show up with guns blazing to break her out wasn't an exaggeration. She blinked a couple of times, her vision still blurry from the last dose of the drug but her eyes didn't deceive her – the man standing in the door was Tom.

"Hey, Liz," he greeted her, coming closer. "Wanna get out of here?"

The drug must have really messed with her head because instead of relief, disappointment and concern wrapped around her befuddled mind and clenched their claws around her heart. Where was Red? Why wasn't he the one standing there? Had something happened to him? She was so sure he would be the one standing in the door right now-

"Liz, are you staying or going?" Tom's insistent voice brought her out of her stupor and she realized he had freed her from the chains and was standing in the door, looking at her impatiently. Soul-searching would have to wait for a time when she wasn't drugged and held captive.

She slowly got up, swaying a little on shaky legs but soon managed to get her balance back and followed him out. They moved upward through a series of narrow corridors and staircases but Tom seemed to know his way around pretty well and didn't hesitate even once. She did, though.

"Where are we going?" she asked after some ten minutes of meandering.

"To the nearest life boat. They're on the aft. We'll be there soon," he assured her and opened another door that finally led out of the steely insides of the watercraft and on the deck. Her breath was pushed back into her lungs by the sudden gust of air that hit them as they stepped through. She shivered, painfully reminded she was bare-foot and still only in her underthings.

The sun dazzled her and she was about to raise her hand to shield her eyes when she heard the unmistakable click of a safety being released on a gun and she froze.

"Step away from her, Tom," Red's voice sounded to their left and she pivoted to see him aiming a gun at Tom, with Dembe standing close by mirroring Red's position.

"Red, he just released me from the cell I was held in," Liz said, somewhat irritably. "I think you can play nicely for once and leave him be."

Red pursed his lips, obviously miffed, but his gun didn't move an inch. "He released you, yes. In order to initiate the next phase of the Cabal's plan for you – get you away from here, make you trust him and get you to talk about the Fulcrum and me. Isn't that right, Tom?" he asked, looking at him pointedly.

Before the last notes of Red's question died out, Liz felt Tom's hands grab her forcefully from behind and the muzzle of his gun dig into her side.

"This is becoming a very annoying habit of yours," Red remarked in a dangerously low voice, stepping closer. "But this time you'd better be ready to shoot because when I get there, I won't hesitate."

"Don't you move any closer, Reddington, or I will do it!"

"Coward," Liz hissed venomously.

"I had no choice, Liz," he whispered into her ear.

"You always have a choice," she said, looking straight at Red. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod and she grabbed Tom's gun hand and managed to twist it just enough that when it fired, the bullet barely grazed her skin and embedded itself harmlessly in the door they had come in through. Her sprained ankle gave in and she fell to the ground just as Red reached them. In the corner of her eye she noticed Dembe launching himself at Tom just before he aimed his gun back up at her.

Red quickly helped her up and led them away from the scuffle. Suddenly shots fired from above, raising up plumes of coppery sparks as they hit the railings and metal walls, hitting too close for comfort. In a matter of seconds even more shots were fired from the opposite direction.

"Dembe!" Red exclaimed in warning and the bodyguard managed to duck just in time to avoid another barrage of shots. Tom also wasn't taking it lying down and he used the commotion to skitter away in the opposite direction from them, away from Dembe's reach.

The three of them took cover behind a corner, Liz panting heavily.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

"My team and Tom's friends having a shoot-out," Red stated matter-of-factly, carefully looking from behind the corner. He turned back and looked at Dembe. "We're getting out. Signal Mr. Hoffinger."

Dembe nodded and as he spoke over walkie-talkie, Red took a while to take Liz in. His expression grew thunderous as his eyes landed on her bruised face and bloodied wrists.

"Will you be able to walk, Lizzie?" he asked gently.

Then he was shrugging out of his coat and offering it to her. "Take this," he said handing the soft woolen garment to her. "I'm sorry to say we haven't thought of bringing any spare woman's garments so this will have to do for now," he added. "It's the latest fashion in Milan," he added and she couldn't help but crack a small smile at him as she got into the coat and tied it close around her.

"Thank you," she said, her gaze locking with his, and she hoped he realized she wasn't really thanking him for the coat but for so much more.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," he replied, his tone regretful. "They hurt you," he stated tersely, his lips a thin unhappy line.

"You should have seen them, though," she replied aiming at cheeky but without much success.

"I have no doubt you made their life quite difficult, Lizzie," he said with a half-smile. "I know first hand how difficult you can make it for a criminal to do their job," he added and reached out to move his thumb gently over the marred skin of her cheekbone, his eyes intent as if he wanted to memorize every little scrape and bruise to pay out those responsible for each and every single one of them.

She watched him with baited breath. He bore that pinched, tense expression on his face and the shadows under his eyes were more pronounced than usual and she knew in that instant that he hadn't had a wink of sleep since she had been taken. And he was apologizing he hadn't come sooner. Suddenly she was aware as never before of how much she meant to Red. She knew that she wasn't an easy person to love; very few people had ever got close enough to try, not that she would have wanted them to. But Red had. Red really did care about her, regardless of whether he had said the words or not, that was irrelevant. It was in everything that he did, every move he made, irrefutable. She swallowed against the knot in her throat.

"You were right about Tom," she said, her tone low and sad. "Again."

Red let his hand fall to his side, his eyes intent on her.

She shook her head with a self-deprecating grimace. "I stole his passports from the hold-up for him so that he'd help me find answers and when he didn't take them, I thought that maybe, _maybe_ he could change and he really did care about more than his own skin. But all he was doing was establishing trust, playing for the other side _all this time_," she enunciated, letting anger at herself for being played again take over her voice.

Red was about to reply when an explosion shook the ship. "That's our cue," he announced, looking over Liz's shoulder at his bodyguard. "Dembe?"

"We have a clear passage to the helicopter," Dembe confirmed.

Liz nodded and followed Red, with Dembe taking up the rear. Liz had to admire how swiftly Red moved in front of her, his movements agile and purposeful despite the ever more pronounced swaying of the slowly sinking ship, reminding her that he had been a high-ranking Naval officer long before he was anything else. She herself wasn't doing that well, and the pain in her ankle was becoming more and more acute as the remnants of the drug were wearing off. Noticing her slowing down, Dembe put an arm around her to steady her, and then Red was on her other side to offer support as well, and together the three of them pushed forward. Soon she saw the aircraft parked on a small helipad, its rotors already moving and ready to start. It was not a moment too soon as the ship was starting to lean dangerously to the starboard. They didn't have much time before it sank.

They were but a few feet away from safety when a shadow sprung up on them from the side, blocking their way.

"You aren't getting off this ship without me," Tom said, a gun in his hand aimed at them. He was bleeding from a cut on his temple and his left hand was bent at an unnatural angle but he stood his ground opposite them.

"Move away, Tom" Red commanded, his tone dangerously low.

The other man sneered. "I'm done talking to you, Reddington. You can-"

Suddenly a violent tremor went through the hull and they were all thrown to the side, losing their footing. Tom had disappeared.

"Help!" came from the side as the three of them scrambled back up.

Liz looked at Red, her fingers winding around his and taking the gun from his hand. She hobbled to the railing and saw Tom hanging by one hand over the water, his inured one hugged closely to his chest..

"Liz, help me!"

She could feel Red hover protectively close behind her but he didn't say or do anything. He was leaving it up to her, giving her once again the freedom to save this man even though he hated him with all his heart.

She balanced herself as well as possible on her one good foot and looked down at Tom.

"I would have helped you," she replied, tears of betrayal and disappointment prickling behind her eyes. "I was willing to trust you and give you another chance," she spoke through clenched teeth.

"Liz! Please!" he begged. "If I ever meant anything to you, as your husband-"

"Don't you dare," she snapped. "I already saved my husband a year ago, right after he used me as a human shield. You- you are nothing to me and I have no obligations towards you," she said and aimed the gun at his head.

She fixed him with a sharp gaze and saw fear in his eyes.

"Liz, no! Don't!"

She adjusted her grip on the handle, her fingers suddenly warm and sweaty. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. One lonely tear slid down her cheek and she looked back down at him. The ship shook again and she felt Red's steadying hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not going to kill you," she said slowly at Tom. "But I don't have to save you again."

With that, she turned away to face Red. He was looking at her with something deep and unfathomable in his eyes. She gave him a sad, broken smile and pressed the gun back into his hand.

"Take me away from here, Red."

As soon as the helicopter was up in the air, another explosion shook the ship and it broke in two. Liz turned her eyes away from the lonely figure swallowed up by the angry sea together with the ship's broken body, and gently leaned her head on Red's shoulder, who was a silent steady presence on her side.

~o~O~o~

"Where are we going?"

They had landed on a private helipad moments ago and were just seated in Red's city car, with Dembe behind the steering wheel pressing the gas pedal to the floor.

"To a safe house. My doctor is waiting there for us to check you up."

Liz shook her head. "I need to speak to Cooper first, Red," she objected. "Get me to the Post Office."

Red raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that an order?"

Liz rolled her eyes. "I have been in a car crash, drugged, injured and couldn't order _a pizza_ if I wanted to but yes, if you want it to, it's an order."

He pursed his lips. "Out of the question," he stated categorically.

"Red, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself and I have a job to do."

"I've already talked to Cooper and we both agree before we will let you anywhere near the Post Office, you need to be examined and get some rest," he enunciated. "In the last twenty four hours you've been in a car accident, several shootings, you've been kidnapped-" he interrupted himself with an exasperated sigh. "Do I really need to go through the whole list for you to get the point, Lizzie?"

Liz clenched her teeth, her nostrils flaring in irritation. "So you two decided behind my back and I'm supposed just to take it-," she started her angry tirade but had to double over as her breath was knocked out of her lungs by a wave of searing pain spreading through her chest. Up till now it was first the drug and then adrenaline keeping the pain at bearable levels but both were definitely gone from her system now, unleashing on her nervous system the full agony of cracked ribs, her sprained ankle and multiple other smaller injuries she had sustained.

"Lizzie, just let me take you to see the doctor," Red said in a softer tone laced with concern. "If she declares you are fit for duty, I won't object and you'll be free to go."

Still overwhelmed by the subsiding wave of pain, she simply nodded and very slowly leaned back so as not to put any more pressure on her ribs. She looked out of the window and closed her eyes, the cool glass surface giving her warm forehead some relief. The moment her eyelids closed, she saw Tom's eyes pleading with her not to kill him and the fear in his eyes as she aimed the gun at him. Hot tears started to build up behind her eyes and she opened them, looking over at Red. He was gazing out his own window, his hands tightly clasped in his lap. Maybe it was the tilt of his fedora or the tense angle of his shoulders but she could see he was unhappy.

"I couldn't do it, Red," she uttered, feeling herself very unhappy and tired. "I couldn't shoot him," she clarified when he turned his gaze on her. "Do you think he's dead?"

"He should be though you know how resilient cockroaches are," he replied after a moment with a disparaging twist of his lips.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek and wiped it away angrily but then more came. She took a ragged breath.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked angrily. "He was a manipulative cold bastard who used me time and again. Why the hell am I crying!"

"It only does you credit," Red said, lying a hesitant hand over hers. "There is nothing wrong with mourning what could have been. What _should_ have been," he emphasized, his voice subdued. "Tom was supposed to be the most important person in your life, to love and protect you, to be the father of your children. But he was a coward and a cheat," he added pointedly, a hard edge cutting through his words. "And he didn't deserve you or your forgiveness."

"And you, Red?" she asked.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her. His expression remained flat but there was something piercing in his eyes that made her swallow hard before she could continue.

"Do you deserve forgiveness?" she finally clarified in a low tone, holding his gaze.

"No," he replied shaking his head, his words embellished with a short incredulous laugh. Then his features evened out and he chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, looking out the window. "I never have," he continued after a while, his voice low and somber. "I never deserved your forgiveness. I never deserved as much as a single kind word out of you. You read my file, you saw what I do and what I'm capable of, and yet you chose to give me a chance anyway. Because that is who you are, Lizzie. You are beautiful not only on the outside, but above else on the inside. You have an innately good and incorruptible spirit, and it is that spirit that incorrigible sinners like Tom, or me, crave. We are hopelessly drawn to the goodness we can never have. You think it is a weakness. It is not. It is your greatest strength, Lizzie. That is why you gave a second chance to a notorious criminal, and that is why you're crying after the death of a man who hurt you so much. If I had but a shred of your fortitude, of your goodness, the world would be a quite different place right now."

Liz swallowed hard, lost for words.

"I'm not still in love with him," she finally said. "I haven't been for a long time now."

Red dropped his head a little, his expression pinched. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. It was none of my business to ask you about that."

"No, it wasn't," she admitted. "But I want you to know nonetheless." She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts, her fingers automatically wandering to rub her scar. "Tom…he was part of a comfortable lie I made myself believe – that I had the perfect guy, the perfect house, the perfect job…But there is no such thing." She shook her head with a rueful smile. "Not in real life. It was an illusion, and illusions are dangerous. They have no flaws. They make you believe in things that are not there. I don't want that. I'm a real girl living in the real world, and I have flaws. All anyone can really do is try to find people who see them, see you for who you truly are, but care enough to stick around anyways," she finished and gave him a small bittersweet smile. "You taught me that."

Red simply stared at her, his eyes suspiciously bright.

Done and entirely spent, she nodded and turned her gaze back to the window, afraid of what he would see in her gaze if she kept it on him. No one looked at her the way Red did or spoke to her like he just did, like she was an angel come from heaven or the eighth wonder of the world, and she was still not fully able to cope with the possibilities it promised or to put a name to what lay beneath that gaze, what it meant.

When the car stopped, Red helped her get out but then quickly moved away and started on the path leading up to the Victorian mansion they would be stopping at. He avoided her gaze and she thought he was maybe embarrassed by their earlier exchange. Liz could imagine it wasn't often that he allowed himself such open displays of emotion. She felt she had to let him know that he could be like this with her and she would not judge or think less of him for it. To the contrary, she felt that side of Red was closest to her. That jagged, raw, broken side of him he kept carefully hidden away. Because that was the real Red, and long gone was a time that she would be scared or disgusted by that side of him. She wanted him to know he could be really himself with her, that it was what she wanted above all else, to see and know the man behind the suits and fedoras.

"I forgot one important thing," she said, stopping him in his tracks.

Red turned around, giving her a questioning gaze.

"Thank you," Liz said, slowly coming closer to stand before him. Although his face remained frozen in that bland expression of mild interest he so often employed, she could see his eyes widen in surprise for a fraction of a second. "I knew you would come for me."

"Always," he replied after a beat, his voice strangely constricted as she locked her gaze with his.

And then she wound her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest, right over his heart. He froze with his hands hanging awkwardly along his sides, completely shocked by her behavior. They hardly ever touched, both of them inhibited and wary of the lines they had drawn between each other. And if they did, it was mostly perfunctory and always initiated by Red, most of the time to annoy her or gauge her reaction. That was one of the many unspoken boundaries they had set up in their arrangement, but lately it seemed Liz had thrown the contract out of the window and she crossed one line after another with such ease that it boggled his mind.

Then her voice broke him out of his stupor. "Red, when someone hugs you, you're supposed to hug them back."

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Another lesson in social behavior?"

"You know you need them, you gerbil of a man."

"Look who's talking," he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

She moved away a little to look at him with a scandalized expression on her face. "I'm not a gerbil!" she protested, amusement dancing in her eyes. "More of a squirrel."

"I'm not touching that one," Red replied with a short laugh.

Then finally he wound his arms lightly around her, propping his cheek on the top of her head. Once the last remnants of laughter died between them, he allowed a ragged breath to escape his lips. Why did it have to feel so good? Why did she have to fit against him so well?

Why did it feel like skies were opening over them?

~o~O~o~

Liz sighed, feeling a mixture of frustration and reluctant relief. The doctor had just left, leaving her wrapped up in bandages like a mummy and ordering her bed rest for at least the next couple of days. Like that was going to happen. Still, at least for this night she would remain put. In the solitude of the room she could admit to herself that she felt bone-tired and weak. The last days had taken their toll on her, and grudgingly, she had to agree with Red and thank him silently for making her come here. She was thrown off balance not only physically but also mentally and she needed some time to work through the events of the last days.

She closed her eyes, rubbing her fingers against her forehead in a futile attempt at warding off the million and one questions assaulting her weary brain. Her thoughts were tumultuous and scattered but most of them seemed to revolve around Red, Tom, and Connolly. Mostly around Red, though. Tom she had made peace with, and what she had said to Red in the car was what she really felt. Maybe it was Red rubbing off of her or maybe she had been like that all along, but the dominant feeling when she thought about Tom was relief. Knowing he wasn't around anymore to cause more havoc and pain in her life gave her comfort and a peace of mind.

She knew she could only ever be with a man whom she could trust fully and implicitly, and who would trust her the same way. She never had that in her life and it made her fully aware how valuable and important it was. She didn't bestow trust easily but when she did, it was completely. So once Tom had broken the trust, despite all the lingering and conflicted feelings she had indeed harbored for a good long while, it was a done deal for her.

To Liz, trust for a relationship was like blood for the body and like rain for the desert. It was indispensable and necessary to survive. Like a lonely bramble bush persevering in barren sands, parched under a burning sky, it could still bloom if rain washed over it. But if there was no trust, the defiant bush's roots would be destroyed and all its moisture dried up. It would continue to live for a while but would bear no fruit, and in the end, die without hope. And when it died, it hurt. It hurt so much. Her experience with Tom had made her realize she could never go through that again.

Then there was a soft knock on the door, and she was very grateful for the distraction because this soul-searching was proving quite exhausting. Red appeared in the door and she took a deep breath, plastering a slightly irritated expression on her face and hoping he wouldn't notice her shaken up state.

"I'm staying for the night," she announced quickly before he even crossed the threshold, furtively wiping the last of the tears that had build up on her lashes. "But if you've come here to tell me 'I told you so'-" she let her voice hang.

"That would be rather childish of me, don't you think?" he asked with a teasing smile, coming a bit closer.

"Remember I saw you order hotel staff to put lentil seeds under Dembe's bed sheets just because he told me about that New Orleans transvestite story so I wouldn't put it past you," she retorted, crossing her hands over her chest and instantly regretting it as her ribs objected to the sudden strain.

"That was payback," Red replied with an innocent shrug, perching on the edge of her bed as far away from her as possible without falling on the floor. "And I always pay back what's due."

"About that." Liz's face grew serious. "Red, I heard things on the ship. It's Connolly. He's behind the kidnapping, the shooting and god knows what else."

"Yes," Red nodded, his gaze drifting towards the window.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You knew."

He looked back at her with a sour expression. "I found out a while ago, yes."

She felt her blood slowly turn to ice with each word. "Why haven't you told me?"

He sighed. "You wouldn't have left it alone, you would have acted and I couldn't let you do that."

"Why, because I would mess with your grand plan?" she asked bitterly. "The one you still don't trust me enough to tell me?"

"No," he objected, impatience coloring his tone. "Because it would put you in danger."

"You mean in more danger than being kidnapped and shot at?" she asked caustically.

"Lizzie, like I told you before, this has nothing to do with trust and everything to do with your safety."

"Don't even try to play the safety card again," she scoffed in vexation. "You seem to be so worried about my physical health, and yet you have no qualms about messing up with my mental stability all the time. Every time I think we're starting to get along, every time I think I can almost get over everything you've done, another one of your obfuscations comes up," she said with weary resignation.

"Lizzie-"

She shook her head angrily and continued, not letting him get a word in. She had to get her disappointment and frustration out because if she kept it locked up inside any longer, she would explode. "It's almost as if you create them on purpose to keep me away. And it's gotten more so ever since I told you I cared about you. Should I take it back?" she asked sharply, angry sparks in her eyes as she fixed his gaze with hers. "Would that make you feel better? Less vulnerable? Because that's all I still am to you, even after everything. Your vulnerability. And you hate it." She barely managed to keep her voice even and she had to clench her fingers into fists to keep them from shaking but still, it was grounding to say it out loud.

Red didn't remember holding his breath but when he felt his lungs burn for want of air, he exhaled raggedly and sucked in a shallow breath over the knot in his throat.

"Lizzie, _no_," his voice came out in a strained hiss. "You know you are so much more."

"I don't know anything because you won't tell me!"

"What would you have me say, then?" he asked irritably.

"The truth for once."

Red shook his head. "Lizzie, I would do anything for you but that is one thing I just can't."

He watched her face morph into a flat mask of sadness and he knew that this was a test of sorts and he had failed terribly. Still, if it meant she would be out of danger a little longer, it was worth it. As long as she was safe and sound, he could live with her disappointment and hatred. No matter how much her every word felt like another dagger piercing through him.

She turned on her side, away from him. She felt an inexplicable, nauseating wave of disappointment and regret wash over her, and she didn't want to look at him for fear he would see it as well and know instantly what had finally become clear to her.

"Please just leave, Red. I'm tired."

If Liz had been looking at him, she would have seen the terrible stare of pain his eyes held.

"Very well," he said in a low tone. "Good night."

As he got up, he saw Dembe standing frozen in the door with a blanket he was apparently bringing Lizzie. Red walked past him and closed the door to Lizzie's room.

"Raymond-" came Dembe's voice from behind.

"It's for the best," he cut him off, his voice laden with resignation and sadness.

Dembe allowed himself a little sigh as he watched Raymond disappear in his own room, probably to get himself better acquainted with the decanter of whiskey waiting for him there. He had seen many faces of Red, more than fifty colors of his friend's nature, but he hated this one the most – not the ruthless businessman or the calculating strategist or the cold manipulator, but this. This downtrodden resigned man who thought himself a monster undeserving of anything but pain and torment. It made Dembe so angry that sometimes he just wanted to grab Raymond by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Dembe of course didn't know everything about Red's past but he knew enough and he had seen enough to know that underneath it all, Raymond was a good and honorable man put in indescribably cruel circumstances, who had been punishing himself for things out of his control for twenty years. Red hadn't had a wisp of real happiness in more than two decades but now finally, just as things were drawing to a close, an unexpected light in the dark tunnel appeared in one Elisabeth Keen. It was yet to be seen, though, whether that light would turn out to be Red's salvation or a train on a collision course.

~o~O~o~

In the darkness of the room, Liz allowed the tears to fall and the painful realization to wash over her. Maybe it was the fact that she nearly died today or the jarring conversation with Red, or maybe it was something else, but it had finally become clear to her and she could not deny it any longer, and it hurt so much. She had been pushing it away vehemently for longer than she even realised it was there but it was like water. It found a way to push through every seal, every dam and every obstacle she had put in its way. There was no way of stopping it. She was in love with Raymond Reddington and he didn't love her back. Not like that. He didn't even _trust_ her. She was just a necessary piece of the puzzle he had to keep safe until the game was done, and then he would be off and she would be left here, alone and broken.

She let another sob rack through her body. Sometimes you had to let yourself sink inside the pain before you could learn how to swim to the surface.

_tbc._

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Thank you for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this and if you're wondering whether to review, please do!


	10. Chapter 10

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** I just wanted to say 'thank you' to the reviewers who take the time to give so much encouragement. You've helped me keep the flame of this story idea alive. I truly appreciate it.

**A/N2:** This story, and especially this chapter, was outlined long before we got to the Season 2 finale so as I mentioned before, it varies from the canon.

And as always, a big thank you to _inmate23 _for her help and encouragement!

**Disclaimer:** Still have nothing to do with TBL except for obsessing over it;)

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**Chapter 10**

_Overwhelmed_

_Under swept away_

_Things that we can but we won't really say_

_Two things are enough for me to know_

_You need to leave and I can see how you'd go_

_We'd find the part_

_If we looked too deep_

_But two hearts like ours_

_Are better left to their own mystery_

_~ Don Brownrigg, There Is Nothing_

"Don't give me that look."

Liz didn't even have to see Dembe to know he was giving her one of his silent half-admonishing, half-exasperated gazes. He had been giving her a lot of these lately. She sighed. It was a lovely morning and the sunlight was gold on the floor and on Liz's hair as she turned to face the bodyguard, frustration evident in her face and movements.

"I should at least be able to shoot paint balls at you while you do that," Dembe responded with a straight face and an innocent shrug as he watched the woman in front of him resume her pacing.

"I'm treating it as part of my PT," she retorted. "The doctor told me to move the leg as much as possible after he took the compressive wrap off."

Dembe raised an eyebrow. "I'm fairly certain that is not what he had in mind when he said you were to move it, Elisabeth."

Liz shot him a sharp glance, trying to quash the smile that was fighting its way to her lips.

Red had been quite adamant about her staying with him and Dembe until Connolly wasn't taken care of, and Cooper had made it clear to her he wasn't letting her in the Post Office until she was fully fit for duty. Thus in the last days she had been recuperating in Red's hideaway, spending literally all her time with the bodyguard. After the kidnapping Red had assigned Dembe to personally watch over her and although she had bristled at that at first, in the end she had to admit she liked the company. Dembe had proven to be a really good companion and once he seemed to finally get comfortable enough with her, she got to understand why Red appreciated and relied on him so much. He was wise, had a sharp wit and was calmer than Buddha. She even started doing meditating exercises with him, something for which she had never had enough patience before.

And then there were the stories. Dembe was almost as good a story-teller as Red and he had regaled her with recounts of his and Red's exploits around the world – some scary, some hilarious and others just plain embarrassing. If she ever wanted to blackmail Red, she now had so much material she could write a whole book. Apart from their value as leverage, the stories also served as a good distraction and helped to get her mind off the darker paths it was prone to stray to these days. Red himself was almost never in, obviously planning something big with regard to the Connolly situation and not including her yet again. For once, though, she was glad as she really didn't want to even look him in the eye for fear of what he might see in her gaze. So she preferred to keep her distance. And pace.

Once she had cried out the initial shock and anguish over her newly discovered feelings that memorable night last week, she seemed to have reached a state of stoic resignation. All she seemed to have these days was time to think and although normally she hated inactivity, this time it was actually proving helpful for coming to terms with…well, with everything. The l-word was still stuck in her throat and seemed quite surreal. She gritted her teeth. It had taken her long enough to realize it but how was it that Red didn't see it? He knew everything about her and could read her like an open book so how could he have not known? The only answer was he did and chose to ignore it because he didn't reciprocate her feelings. He treated her like his daughter or a protégé, not as a woman and his equal. She had seen the type of women that appealed to Raymond Reddington and she was nowhere near being mature or experienced enough for such a world-wise, consummate man. But if she couldn't have that, she believed she deserved at least a little bit of trust from him.

She let her lips crease into a thin line.

"Dembe, every single time when I think I can trust him, a new manipulation or scheme comes up that basically throws it all through the window," she threw her hands up in frustration. "I don't think I can take any more deflections and half-truths."

"Liz, you have got to look at the bigger picture here," Dembe expostulated slowly. "He is doing it for your own good. Everything he's ever done has been with that one aim in mind."

"It's a bit much," she replied flatly, "-to ask me just to believe Red at face value."

"Well, you could start off by actually talking to him. Or I will."

"Don't you dare, Dembe," Liz warned him, looking mutinous. "He's been avoiding me as much as I have him."

"Yes, he has," Dembe admitted. "Because that's what you wanted, for him to leave you alone. You have to understand that for the last twenty-five years your interest has been his priority. He doesn't even think about it any more. It's like an impulse, subconscious and instinctive. So if anything between the two of you is ever going to change, you're going to have to be the one who changes it. Because he cares about you too much to ever think about himself or what he wants when it comes to you. You set the terms, Elisabeth, and he will respect that above all else."

Liz stopped her pacing, and focused all her attention on the bodyguard.

"_His_ interest is his key priority, Dembe," she replied truculently but she knew her stubbornness and conviction was starting to crumble underneath the bodyguard's words, leaving a clouded feeling of unease. "I may be of some importance to him but all this time he has been protecting himself above all else. He may give me all the assurances in the world but his actions speak louder than words and they speak one thing: self-interest and lack of trust," she finished, feeling each word cut through her and wanting Dembe to contradict her.

He didn't. Not at first.

"The actions that you know of," he finally said quietly, avoiding her gaze.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

"It is not for me to tell," he replied sadly and went out, leaving her alone and even more confused.

~o~O~o~

Red placed his fedora on the nightstand and gently perched on the edge of Lizzie's bed. For a moment he simply soaked in the comfort of her closeness, looking at her sleeping form, for once relaxed and calm. The night had fallen some time ago and he had yet again waited for when she was asleep before he came back. She had been understandably angry and disappointed with him in the last days and he respected her right to feel this way. He had maintained the distance she obviously needed and although it hurt him, like always he respected her wishes.

The gentle moonlight filtering in through the window threw the hollows under her eyes into relief, the angle of her cheekbones, painting her face with its own colors of silver and argent. Making her almost hurtfully beautiful to look at. Certainly, something inside him hurt.

Every time he caught a glimpse of her these days, she seemed tense and sad. He never wanted to see her like that again. This had to end now. He would get rid of this last obstacle and be gone from her life because all he had brought her was trouble and chaos and pain. Letting out a strained sigh, he leaned in and placed the gentlest of kisses on her cheek.

He froze like that for a moment, burning the moment, the goodbye, into his memory, before suddenly getting back onto his feet and crossing the room to the door.

"It's time, Dembe," he said when he closed the door and strode off, handing his bodyguard a card on the way. "Call the number from the car."

The fedora remained on the nightstand.

~o~O~o~

"I hope you have good news for me, Mr. Reddington," Tom Connolly sneered at Red as he put his coat closer around him.

Red's glance swept disparagingly around the warehouse and then landed on the other man. "If I didn't know you better, I would be tempted to think you choose these dingy places just to spite me."

Connolly let out a harsh laugh. "You have to have a hobby."

Red raised his eyebrows. "Organized crime and blackmailing not doing it for you?"

Connolly's smile faded. "I hope you've held your side of the bargain or-"

"Please, Tom, again with the threats," Red interjected him with a short laugh. "They are as dull as they are long. Have you been reading War and Peace again?"

"I swear, Reddington, once this is done, I will-"

"Better not swear anything at this time, Tom. I might hold you to your word," Red said in a light voice that, however, hid an undertone of steel. "Just as I always keep mine," he finished and moved a little to the side, allowing another person to step into the light.

"Hello, Tom," said the Director pleasantly. "I hear you've been wanting to meet me."

Connolly blinked, taken aback completely. And then he took a step back, noticing the gun in the man's hand.

"That wasn't very wise, Tom, because unfortunately, I have no need for your services," the Director continued with a small mock pout. "And you know far too much for me to just let you continue."

"Wait-"

Connolly didn't get to finish as three shots cut through his voice and body, silencing him for eternity.

The Director didn't spare him another glance as he turned back to Red with a satisfied smile.

"There. Two birds killed with one stone," he announced happily.

Red felt a feeling of foreboding creep up his spine.

"Tom Connolly and Elisabeth Keen," the Director continued in a conversational tone. "I thought it would be entertaining to combine the both to the Organization's interest," he said with a thin smile, looking at the gun in his gloved hand. "I do like standard issue weapons. They are so easy to get a hold of. This one, for example, belongs to Agent Keen. It has her fingerprints all over. Combined with my testimony and the unexpectedly leaked information about her past that will shortly appear on the Washington Post's website, it should do the trick nicely."

Red strove to keep a straight face but he felt his stomach drop to the floor.

The Director continued with a pleasant smile, "This must feel a little like déjà vu for you, Mr. Reddington. Like twenty years ago, this is a warning. We can do what we want. We can get to anyone. We can do everything we deem necessary to secure our interests. And we can and will take away everything that you hold dear if you as much as breathe the word Fulcrum."

Red felt his blood turn to ice as his suspicion crystallized into certainty. He would not be the one leaving tonight after all.

Lizzie would be.

"You are playing with fire," he ground out. "And you know what happens to those who do."

"Oh, I think it's more of a spark," the other man replied with a harsh laugh. "I can quash it with my little finger."

Police sirens sounded in the distance.

"I suggest you hurry up," the Director advised with an arrogant smile. "I'll give you a head start of twelve hours to get her out of the country before she becomes public enemy number one. That's more time than you had twenty years ago but I'm feeling merciful tonight. Let's see how good the Concierge of Crime really is. And then the hunt begins."

The time for talking was done. Red swept away without another word, several plans at once formulating in his head.

"Dembe, a phone. And in the mean time, you call Cooper."

This was only the beginning. After all, even the smallest spark could make the world burn.

~o~O~o~

Liz woke up to a thick, inky darkness covered in sweat and panting heavily. The hour was still very young but she knew she would not be able to fall asleep again. The nightmares about the fire had been getting more pronounced after the kidnapping but never like tonight. There had never been a shot before. A gun in her child self's hand, just like when she had aimed Red's gun at Tom on the ship.

On the verge of hyperventilating, she closed her eyes. Contorted, hazy flashes of fire and heat and fear assaulted her instantly and she bolted upright to a seating position. She got up and shivering, brought a blanket over her shoulders. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness around her, her glance caught the fedora on her nightstand. She touched her fingers to the soft material gently and somehow, she felt a little better knowing Red had been here.

As she padded to the sitting room, the house was eerily quiet and Dembe was nowhere to be seen. The fireplace was still going when she sat herself on the couch opposite the hearth, letting her gaze and thoughts be swallowed once again by the flames, with the fedora placed on the coffee table as her companion. It was a bit as if Red was there with her.

She had no idea how much time had passed but it was after the fire had died out and the tears on her cheeks had dried that she felt the weight of the couch shift and saw Red sit next to her.

"Lizzie," he spoke in a gentle, low tone after a moment. "Are you OK?"

"We need to talk," she stated, turning towards him.

"Yes, we do," he agreed.

"I remember, Red."

That seemed to have taken him by surprise. She saw him take in a quick breath before he asked, "Remember what?"

"The fire. The memories have been growing stronger ever since the ship," she explained. "And now I think I know what happened. Parts of it at least."

"Which parts?" he rasped out.

"Tell me about my parents, please," she beseeched him. "Tom was telling the truth that one time, wasn't he? My father was a member of the Cabal."

He knew that when he looked at her, his face was full of grief, a dull, heavy, angry grief that he would never find the words to say. He never wanted her to know but circumstances had changed dramatically and it was the least he could do before she left, give her her past back. At least parts of it. Some parts he would forever keep buried inside.

"I loved James and Katrina," he started slowly in a breaking tone. "They were my friends. We began in the Cabal together back when it was a small organization of idealists from all over the world who wanted to bring an end to the Cold War. But under the lead of a new director it quickly began to rot from the head, becoming everything that we fought against. When we saw what it had become, we devised a plan to get out and steal the Fulcrum as insurance. But someone betrayed Katrina and James and the Cabal learned too quickly that they had stolen the Fulcrum. As we had agreed, I was still in just in case, with no suspicion on me, and was sent to get the Fulcrum and eliminate your parents and you." He let out a shuddering breath. He never thought relieving those events would be more painful than actually participating in them but he was wrong. Looking into Lizzie's eyes as he recounted that day was the greatest, most acute pain he had ever felt. "When I got to your house, I was met with James and Katrina arguing in their bedroom. Katrina still had some contacts in Russia and she wanted to take the Fulcrum and you back there but James would not let that happen. As I listened, I realized it was he who had betrayed her. Betrayed us. He had cut an immunity deal with the director in exchange for her and the Fulcrum. Katrina took out a gun and aimed it at him. There was a short scuffle-

"-and my father knocked the gun out of my mother's hand," Liz interjected, her tone flat and her gaze shining with unshed tears as she stared with unseeing eyes into the fire and described the events now clear in her head, "I was there, hiding in the corner. The gun…it landed by my feet. I picked it up and aimed it at my father. The next thing I knew, he was lying on the floor. He wasn't moving."

She looked at Red to see his eyes take on a terrible stare of pain like she had never seen in them before.

He let his head drop. He had fought so hard to keep this part of the past away from her but in the end he had failed miserably.

"I never wanted you to find out," he rasped out.

The tears stinging her eyes would not be tamed any longer and she felt them scorch a hot trail over her cheeks and land on her tightly clasped hands. "All this time I thought you were protecting yourself," she spoke in a low, breaking voice. "You allowed me to disregard and despise you and led me to think you were looking only after yourself. But it was all for me. You've been carrying this burden – my burden – on your shoulders all this time. You…you let me hate you just so that I wouldn't hate myself."

"I would do the same thing again, Lizzie."

"I know." She gave him a teary smile. "And what happened to my mother?"

He looked into the embers slowly dying in the hearth and didn't continue until once he was sure his voice wouldn't betray him. "The Cabal sent a team after me to finish the job. I was not to make it out of there, either. They had set up fire to the house. It was spreading so fast. There was smoke everywhere. So much smoke. We had to get out fast. Katrina was wounded from the scuffle so I took you and she was supposed to lead the way out back. By that time, the fire was raging around us. And then the ceiling fell down. Your mother…she was fatally wounded and I couldn't get her out. She made me promise I would take care of you. I was in shock and would have probably let the fire consume me alive with her right then and there, but then I heard you coughing. You were so small and scared and clutching a little white stuffed bunny, and I knew I had to get you out of there. Not only because I promised it to a dying friend but because in that moment I realized my life wasn't my own anymore. It was yours and I would do anything for you. And that's how it's been ever since."

As his last words died down, Liz swallowed hard. She was reeling, her thoughts a bewildered, anguished and jumbled mess. She had misjudged Red so completely and he had let her. He had allowed her to think the worst of him, treat him so harshly and mistrust him, just so that she could keep her emotional integrity and not get hurt by the truth. This wasn't love. This was so much more than love that she didn't even have the words to name it. Men like this simply didn't exist.

"And that is why you will allow me to do this for you as well," his voice brought her out of her stunned stupor. She looked at him, not understanding what he meant.

"Tom Connolly is dead," he continued gravely. "Shot by the Director who has framed you for it and made you into a KGB sleeper agent," he said, turning on the TV where the first headlines of the DA's murder were beginning to appear.

"Tell me what I can do."

If it were any other situation, he would have reveled at how much she had grown and how strong she was. Even as she watched her whole world crumble to ruins around her, she remained calm and collected, ready for action. Had he been even half as put-together twenty years ago, his life would look quite different right now.

He closed his eyes, turning away from her before she could see the moisture in them, the unspent tears he refused to shed because it would do nothing...change nothing.

"You need to get out of the country while Cooper and I handle this."

"Red-"

"You need to be safe, Lizzie," he emphasized, not letting her put up any argument. "Safe and far away from here because otherwise they will get to you. They will get to you and burn you at the stake. I will clear your name if that is the last thing I do but to do that, I need to know you are safe and sound because or I won't be able to do what I have to do."

He silently handed her the small travelling bag he had brought with him.

Liz looked into his eyes for a long while. Then she wordlessly reached out her hand and clasped her fingers over his holding the bag, giving them a short squeeze. Then she took the bag.

~o~O~o~

As Liz climbed the ramp up to Red's jet, a lonely gust of wind raked through her hair and tore at her coat, somehow reflecting the coriolis wind that froze her heart and soul. It whistled through the very framework of her being and made her stop. The ride to the small private runway from where she would take the first flight out of several jump flights that were to thwart any pursuit attempts, was a silent one. She had far too much weighing on her shoulders to form coherent thoughts let alone sentences.

Now, however, as she stared inside the jet, the reality of her situation suddenly hit her with full force. Dropping the bag in her hand, she turned back and ran down the stairs, colliding with Red.

"Thank you," she whispered, hiding her face in his shoulder. "I believe I have never really thanked you for protecting me all this time. For protecting my _very soul_ at the cost of your own. How do you even thank for that?"

"You don't," he replied, his voice low as he slowly brought his arms around her. "And you will never have to, Lizzie."

"Through all of it," she continued, ignoring his words. "-you've become the one constant in my life. The one person that I can truly trust. I understand that now."

She pulled back, her face inches before his, her gaze meeting his. A tremor seemed to sweep over Red's face, as if some hope had entered into him like a sword, intolerable and foreign. He opened his mouth but words that he would not speak – was not allowed to speak – died on his lips. He could feel her breath on his cheek and he inhaled deeply. After several agonizing moments, he shook his head and brought his forehead softly to hers, closing his eyes. Then, as if an electric shock went through him, he exhaled sharply and moved a step back.

"Have a safe trip, Lizzie," he gave her a tight smile. His face was once again smooth and still in the way she had learned signaled highest control.

Her lips creased in a bittersweet smile and she nodded. "I don't even know where I'm going, Red."

"Somewhere beautiful," he replied. "And far away. An ocean between us."

"We will see each other again, Red," she said, letting her voice break a little. She knew it showed on her face but she stopped minding showing her vulnerability to him.

"Try to live your life, Lizzie, and don't look back."

Deflection. Coming from him, it was as good as a definite answer. She closed her eyes for a moment against the surge of heartbreak that his words evoked. This felt too much like he was saying goodbye to her, the finality of his words weighed on her shoulders like anvils. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was frozen in that neutral, calm expression that he so often used but his eyes were shining, a certain desperation in them. She swallowed, on the verge of a decision that wasn't even really up to her. Not anymore. Because when it came to him, her free will was not her own anymore. She had no control. She was powerless.

With that thought, both liberating and enslaving, she brought her lips gently to his. For a moment all that mattered was his mouth on hers, his heart pounding against her own, and she wanted to drown in it, wanted to drown in him, in the hard grip of his arms on her back, the softness of his mouth, the pressure of his body against hers but she knew it was not to be. With a sadness that overshadowed everything else, she pulled away as suddenly as she had leaned in.

Feeling her cheeks bloom and avoiding Red's gaze, she turned to Dembe and hugged him tightly.

"Be safe," she whispered into his ear and placed a kiss on his cheek.

She stepped away and added, more loudly, "Take care of him for me, Dembe."

The other man gave her a nod, his eyes suspiciously glassy.

Then she finally turned back to Red, who hadn't moved an inch, frozen in his spot. She made herself look up into his face.

His expression was unfathomable but his eyes spoke volumes. There was a sorrow and finality in them and so much emotion that she had to close her eyes for a moment not to cry again. When she reopened them, she placed a lingering hand on the side of his face. Then after a beat, her features smoothed and she moved away, dragging her fingertips gently over the coarse skin of his cheek.

"Take care of yourself," she said, and when he still wouldn't reply, she nodded and gave him a small smile.

Then, just as her hand was about to fall to her side and she was to move out of his reach, Red's hand shot out, catching her fingers. He gently squeezed her fingers and she reciprocated the touch. Then he let her hand go, clearing his throat.

When he spoke, his voice was low and coarse, as if he was keeping himself hard from saying something else. "You should be going, Lizzie. Be careful and don't look back."

She gave him a little nod and stepped onto the stairs for the second time.

When she was a safe distance away, Red let a shuddering sigh escape his lips, which were still tingling with the memory of her lips on them. That one chaste kiss was like coming home after a long journey, like rain after years on the desert. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't let her see that. It would be selfish. He had hidden his feelings for her for so long and he couldn't let it show now. Otherwise all of it, all the pain and sorrow would have been for nothing. She deserved a clean slate, a new life away from all the mess and chaos and violence, away from him. She deserved to be let go. And he loved her enough to do so. That would be his last gift to her.

"Goodbye, Lizzie," his voice carried on the breeze that had swept through the now open door to the hangar to reach her ears but it was so quiet she was sure it wasn't his intention for her to hear it. For a moment, she thought he was crying.

She slammed to a halt on the last step and pivoted slowly.

No, he wasn't crying.

He just looked very, very broken.

It was in the way his gaze was riveted to the tarmac rather than the leaving plane, and the tight angle of his shoulders.

She swallowed hard, quenching the urge to run down again and find herself in his arms, wipe that air of sorrow and desperation away from his face and posture. But it was too late for that.

"Miss Keen?" the voice of the air hostess calling her on board made both of them jump.

For a second before she turned, she caught his eyes one last time. They were so open and so, so vulnerable as he looked up at her. For once he seemed to not mind that she saw him like this, his eyes conveying so much emotion it was almost hard to look at. Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn't counting on ever seeing her again. Otherwise he would never let her see him like this. She gave him a small nod.

Then she squared her shoulders and stepped on board.

_tbc._

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Don't worry, we're not done yet! There is more left and I hope you'll stay tuned. In the mean time, I'd love it if you dropped me even a word or two on how you liked this:) It makes all the effort worth it and is greatly appreciated!


	11. Chapter 11

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** Hey, guys, thank you so much for all the reviews, favs and alerts! Also, holy CRAP over 100 reviews! *bows and worships* I didn't expect this much, you have made my day, truly :) When coming to this new fandom with this story, I was so nervous but you have totally proven that the TBL fandom is simply the best! *hums Tina Turner*

**Disclaimer:** Check.

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**Chapter 11**

_As you set out for Ithaka_

_hope the voyage is a long one,_

_full of adventure, full of discovery._

_Laistrygonians and Cyclops,_

_angry Poseidon—don't be afraid of them:_

_you'll never find things like that on your way_

_as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,_

_as long as a rare excitement_

_stirs your spirit and your body._

_Laistrygonians and Cyclops,_

_wild Poseidon—you won't encounter them_

_unless you bring them along inside your soul,_

_unless your soul sets them up in front of you._

_~ C.P. Cavafy, 'Ithaka' (transl. by E. Keeley and P. Sherrard)_

"Miss! Miss!"

The door to the classroom slammed open and Liz's head shot up, her hand moving automatically to the gun she had stowed away in her drawer. This was the Nyeri District in central Kenyan highlands and she had had enough dealings with the local criminal element to always be prepared. It had cost several broken noses and other digits before she had made a name for her here but at least the school was finally safe. For now.

Njeri, the village chief's teen daughter who helped her as a teaching assistant and translator, snickered in her seat behind at her nervous reaction. Liz shot her a sideways look and turned back to the little boy, one of her pupils, James, who had just run into the classroom with an excited look in his eyes.

"Miss, miss, come!" he exclaimed enthusiastically upon reaching her desk. "All the adult there, a big announcement on papa's TV!" James' father was the proud owner of the only TV in the village and his home, next to chief Chitundu's hut, was the heart of the village. Usually everyone gathered there on Sundays to listen to music and the news but it was Friday today so something must have indeed happened.

"All the adult_s_ _are_ there," she automatically corrected her pupil, an impulse that had become her second nature incredibly fast. The she looked at Njeri quizzically but the girl just shrugged. "What big announcement, James?" she asked after a second's pause.

"About America," the boy said and tugged at her hand. "Come!"

Liz froze. C_ould it be? _She could feel her heart start beating in frantic, pressurized thumps against her ribcage. She schooled her features into a neutral expression and turned back to the class. She was supposed to call it a day anyway soon.

"End of classes for today," she announced to the children's loud cheer. "Have a nice weekend and remember there's a pop quiz on Monday."

She waited until they all left and then let herself be led out by an ever more impatient James to a hut a couple of buildings away.

She could hear the crackling of the old black and white TV long before she got there. It seemed like indeed the whole village was crowded in the confined space but they moved away reverently for their _nyeupe mkenia_, white Kenyan. She smiled to herself despite her current unease. She hadn't been _mzungu_, the white man, anymore, ever since she had driven away the local vandals threatening the children and the UNO-built new school, gaining the chief's and village elders' respect in the process. That particular change of status had come with a rather embarrassing ceremony and a lot of local moonshine she preferred not to remember.

"-and it seems that the final chapter in the 18-month long war against the World Shadow Government organization, has been closed today with the apprehension of Jijun Bing, the Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party's central committee. This seems to be the last nail in the CCP's coffin following a series of arrests and scandals in the last twelve months, signaling and new day for China's and the world's modern history," the anchor announced in excited voice as footage from the Chinese's arrest followed. "The existence of the Organization first came to light two years ago when several investigative journalists around the world published shocking articles about a shadow association controlling some of the most influential companies and biggest governments around the world. Ever since then we have seen a new day dawning for world peace and democracy. Among others, conflicts in Darfur, Palestine and Ukraine were peacefully resolved, and the dictatorship in North Korea and Cuba ended. Several governments resigned in Europe and Asia. The US has seen the dawn of a new political and business class after the Directors of the CIA and the NSA as well as dozens of other high profile public persons, among them Congressmen, Senators and Supreme Court Judges, were found guilty of treason and conspiracy."

Suddenly a picture of Red appeared on the screen, in a war room of some kind surrounded by some of the highest-ranking US officials. She wouldn't be surprised if it was the White House war room. Even among all those powerful men, Red commanded all attention and seemed to take up more space than normally. Liz thought this must be what he had looked like back in the day, in uniform. "-instrumental in bringing down the organization was Raymond Reddington, once number four on the FBI's Most Wanted list, now celebrated as a national hero." Footage of Red smiling that cocky smile of his as he shook the US President's hand appeared." He has been fully exonerated of all charges against him, awarded an honorary admiral's rank and there are rumors that after this final success, he will be awarded the Medal of Honor, the highest American military honor-"

Liz had heard and seen enough. She closed her eyes against the dampness that had built behind them and took a deep breath. Then she quietly slipped away from the hut. So Red had done it. Everything he had promised and more - not only had he taken down the Cabal and proved his innocence but he had literally brought about world peace.

She went back to the now completely empty classroom and sat behind her desk. For a moment she just stared into space with unseeing eyes until she reached for the drawer in her desk and removed the bottom to reveal an A4 envelope. She took it out and reached inside, taking out the contents and displaying it in front of her. It held Red's handkerchief, the key to the apartment he bought for her after she had sold the one at the Audrey, and one of Red's Most Wanted posters. A tawdry, sad collection of a few cherished items from the past she allowed herself to keep. To remember.

She looked at Red's face in the poster. He would never have to run again and he was finally safe. The relief she felt was tinged with sadness when she thought of everything he had lost on the way and what he had to sacrifice. Nothing, no honors or medals, could ever change the past or give him back his daughter and twenty years of his life. But at least he was free.

Far away from her and as unreachable as a star in the sky, but he was fine, and that would have to be enough. Feeling tears build up on her lashes again, she took a deep breath and hid the items back in their place. Then she walked out of the classroom to the very edge of the village, where she had found a small, secluded spot that looked out onto the vast expanses of the savanna. The sun was almost setting by now and it was not safe to stay there but she still had some time and she needed the solitude.

She propped herself against an acacia tree and leaned her head back against the rough bark, letting the evening breeze filled with the lush smells of savanna on the verge of the wet season into her open eyes and mouth. A plaintive, mournful sound coming from somewhere above enveloped her and she closed her eyes. It had startled her when she first came to Kenya until Njeri explained it was simply the acacia itself, or more specifically the whistling thorn. Some acacia species developed hollow, blackish gourds on their branches, caused by ants living in symbiosis with the shrub. Once these bulbs broke up and the wind hit its holes, a whistling sound emerged. Liz normally didn't like the sound but today it seemed to be the perfect accompaniment to the turmoil in her heart and soul.

The next time she opened her eyes, the moon was up and the moonlight stung her eyes like concentrated white fire – it held her where she sat as surely as a silver spike driven down through her body and into the sand at her feet.

She wondered where Red was and what he was doing, if he was happy. She didn't allow herself to think of him often. And when she did, she didn't see the larger-than-life charismatic persona that brought the most powerful clandestine organization in the world to its knees, but a myriad of small unimportant details which reminded her that underneath it all he was a flesh-and-blood man who had saved her life and stood like a bulwark between her and the evils of this world for almost all her life. Like the way light broke through his glasses, the way he tilted his head when he was amused, the softness of his lips on hers…But that was in another life. So much had happened since then. Since she had last seen him.

She closed her eyes again as the events of the last eighteen months that had brought her here flashed in front of her eyelids in a vivid, hectic string.

~o~O~o~

Five flights, three helicopter rides, two car rides and one motorboat cruise later, Liz found herself on a beach in front of a breath-taking villa in Bali. She knew instantly it was the one Red had told her about once. Every morning that she woke up and recuperated she stared into the ocean. But unlike Red, she didn't see opportunity. She saw solitude and isolation.

She had no idea what was going on home, apart from articles in international press nad news reports about a shadow government that were starting to grow more numerous. As the world order started to fray at the seams, she began to believe she the tables would turn on her situation too, she would be exonerated and could come back to the US. Hope and opportunity seemed to finally set root in her heart.

The first assassin had changed that.

It was only pure coincidence she had her gun on her that day on the beach. The housekeeper was cleaning her room so she had to take out all the more sensitive things out, and so she had taken her gun and slipped it into her beach bag.

That day was the only time she contacted him.

"Red, there was someone here-"

"I know, Lizzie," he interjected hastily. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Who was that? What's going on? I thought this place was safe."

"So did I," he replied mournfully. "I managed to get to your assailant's boss but not before he had dispatched his men. There are more coming and you need to leave, Lizzie," he warned, an urgency and deep anxiety coloring his voice.

"What's going on, Red?"

"The Cabal know the ground's burning under their feet. In hope of distracting me and as payback for your role in all of this, they've set a price on your head and sent more than a dozen bounty hunters after you," he explained in a low, angry tone. If she hadn't been before, in that moment she became fully certain the Cabal's days were numbered. "They cannot be recalled or paid off so until the Cabal is brought down completely you have to be on the move."

Liz swallowed, trying to stay collected as she watched her life take another one eighty into the unknown. "How do I do that, Red?"

"Listen to me, Lizzie, this is very important," he replied, his crisp to-the-point tone breathing reassurance and a modicum of comfort into her heart. "There's a safe behind the Van Gogh painting in the sitting room. The combination is 7364520821. Inside there's an envelope with coordinates for my secret stashes all over the world – in each there is money, weapons and documents. This will allow you to travel under the radar but you still need to be careful. Don't contact _anyone_, keep a low profile and choose remote locations."

"Will this ever be over, Red?" she asked, her voice faltering.

"You will be free and safe if it's the last thing I do, Lizzie," he vowed and she could almost see the rueful half-smile on his lips. "I promise."

"I trust you, Red," she said quietly, bringing the headphone closer to her ear as if that could somehow bring him closer to her as well.

"Lizzie, I-" he said, his voice laden with concern and emotion but then he broke off. She heard other voices behind him. "I have to go, sweetheart. Be safe and be smart. I'll find you," and with these words he hung up.

She stared at the phone for a few seconds, not completely ready to let go of Red's fleeting presence just yet. She shook her head. There was no time for sentiments. If she wanted to see him ever again, she had to be alive for that.

She ran to the safe and she hadn't stopped running ever since. It had been eighteen months. She never stayed anywhere longer than two-three months and in that time she had travelled to Brazilian favelas, lived in Indian slums and suburbs of Colombo, spent long weeks of solitude in the far-away mountains of Bhutan, trekked the rolling Mongolian plateaus and Siberian Altai Mountains. And three months ago she had come to the small Kenyan village, posing as an English teacher for the new school.

Her skin had darkened to a deep golden hue, her frame had grown even leaner, her hair was lighter from the sun and cut short these days, and her eyes had hardened. She had changed not only on the outside but also on the inside. So much so that sometimes she didn't recognize herself in the mirror. She didn't even really feel like a flesh-and-blood person anymore. Along the way, she had made a shadow of herself: no identity, no home and no roots. She was like a ghost among the living. It was a lonely life but it had also helped her deal with her demons – when there was no one else to look to, she was forced to look inside herself and that allowed her to make peace with the past. Her mother. Her father. Sam. Tom. Red.

Throughout this time she had been following news of new arrests, government resignations and the world as she knew it going upside down. And sometime during her stay in the Altais, she had learned on the news that she had been exonerated. The initial feeling of elation had died soon enough as the realization that it wasn't the end ate its way through her high spirits. Just because her name had been cleaned didn't mean she was safe. She knew the bounty hunters were still after her or Red would find her.

She had to believe that, even though she had had no word from him for eighteen months. She knew he was protecting her and she was making it nigh impossible to find her but doubt had been slowly seeping into her heart for some time now and the frequent glimpses she got of him smiling widely in the papers or on the TV, sometimes alone but usually with another quite spectacular beauty on his arm, weren't helping. She knew he was a talented actor but she couldn't really tell anymore what was an act and what wasn't.

It used to anger her but now it only filled her with a blunt kind of sorrow. Her past wasn't the only thing she had come to terms with on her journey. It had taken her long enough to admit it to herself out loud but when she did, there was no going back. She loved Raymond Reddington with that deep, unrelenting kind of feeling that never really let you go. Even if it was unrequited. She knew Red cared for her, used to anyway, but he had never indicated he had any romantic feelings for her. He had never crossed that invisible line from affection to intensity that every woman was aware of. When she thought back on it, she was more and more sure she had imagined the emotion in his eyes when she had stood there on top of the stairs to the plane and looked back that one last time at him-

Suddenly an unmistakable sound shattered her thoughts and the silence around her into a million pieces. The sound of a fired gun.

Liz didn't think twice as she moved stealthily towards the sounds of commotion that were coming from the village square. She crouched quietly behind the wall of one the huts facing the square, her gun in her hand. She slowly peeked over the wall to see a big jeep parked in the middle of the square with several heavily armed men standing around it. They were all aiming their Kalashnikovs at the panicked villagers, who were huddled in groups. She wished she had her gun with her but it was stowed away in the classroom and there was no time to get back for it as she saw two more men dragging Njeri by the hair into the middle of the square. She watched them throw the girl to the feet of another man, who was obviously the leader. He smiled a toothless evil grin at the villagers as he slowly looked around at them.

"We're here for the American!" he exclaimed in broken English, not stopping his scrutiny of the frightened people gathered around him. He seemed to relish in their fear and panic. Liz clenched her teeth, white-hot anger boiling in her. "Give her to us and nothing will happen to you! I give you five minutes! Then I shoot! Starting with her!" he brutally grabbed Njeri by the hair until she let out a pained gasp. She didn't scream, though, and Liz felt a wave of warm admiration for the girl.

"No! Please!" came a pained plea from the side and Liz gasped seeing chief Chitundu get up to his feet and stand in front of his daughter, shielding her from the man. "Don't shoot!"

"Get out of my way, old man!" the gang leader kicked him and shoved him brutally aside. Chitundu fell to the ground, his face gushing blood from the wound on his temple.

The man closed in on him and aimed another kick of his heavily-booted foot at the chief's ribs. His leg never connected with the old man's flesh, though, as he suddenly staggered under a well-aimed punch. In the commotion Liz had disabled two of the thugs closest to her and slinked towards the gang leader, fury coming off her in waves.

"Maybe you should try someone who's able to fight back," she growled, standing over him.

The man for once looked scared as he nursed his beaten right side. "Get her!" he ordered his men shakily.

Liz steeled herself for a full-on assault, as four of the remaining thugs slowly closed in on her, none of them too eager to attack her on his own. The rest of them still had their machine guns trained on the villagers, making sure none of them tried to help her. Liz slowly backed out until her back hit the jeep in the middle of the square. She clenched her jaw and eyed the four men one by one, trying to assess which one of them would attack first. Suddenly there was a grating sound from behind her as if someone had jumped onto the jeep. Then her eyes slid to the right and landed on the man who landed right next to her. Her eyes widened.

"You seem to have gotten yourself in trouble with the local criminal element. Again," the man said with a crooked smile.

Liz couldn't help but roll her eyes. "And you're here to what, Jeremy? Provide running commentary?"

He grinned at her. "As much fun as that would be, I'd rather do my dashing Indiana Jones thing and help a damsel in distress."

"When I see one, I'll be sure to let you know," she retorted.

"I seem-" he began but never finished as the first of the thugs ran at him with a scream.

"Sheesh, these guys can't even appreciate a good banter," he complained while punching the guy in the face.

She shook her head before promptly rendering the second of their assailants unconscious with a well-aimed kick. I didn't take them long to get rid of the four men. When Liz turned, ready to continue the fight, she saw that the rest of the gang together with the leader were now huddled by their jeep, surrounded by the villagers who seemed to have found their courage. Clearly outnumbered, the thugs backed out further and still aimning their machine guns at the people around them, jumped into the jeep and sped away.

As the village exploded into cheer and dance, Liz came up to Chitundu and Njeri. She dropped her head, not being able to look in the chief's bloodied face.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault," she said quietly, her voice breaking a little. "I will leave."

"No. Not leave. We protect," he said proudly puffing up his chest, and looking around his people, who cheered again.

"This is the first time we stood up to them," Njeri supplanted, giving her a smile. "Thanks to you, Liz. There will be a feast tomorrow to celebrate."

Liz just gave her a sad smile and nodded. Every villager wanted to squeeze her hand and only once that was done she could finally slip away into her hut. She grabbed her travelling bag. These thugs had come here specifically for her. They knew who she was. This was once again the bounty hunters catching up to her, and more would come soon. If she stayed, she would put the whole village in danger. She had to leave now.

"Where did you learn to fight like this?"

Startled, she turned around. Jeremy wandered inside, hovering close to the entrance. He was a UN paramedic from Wisconsin, assigned to the village for a six month tour. Liz met him in her very first week here when she hurt her hand on a rusty nail while helping with reparing the roof of the school builiding, and they had hit it off instantly. He was friendly enough and he made her laugh, a feat that not many people managed these days. She never admit it but his sarcastic sense of humor and unflappable attitude were almost painfully familiar and drew her to him almost subconsciously.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, shooting him a sideways look and turning back to her packing.

"I used to train boxing in high school."

"Funny thing. Me too."

He didn't seem to believe her but didn't comment further as his attention was drawn to the travelling bag she was zipping closed.

He frowned. "You going somewhere?"

"Yeah. I remembered I have a meeting," she replied curtly.

"Where? In Nairobi?"

She gave him an exasperated look and he lifted his hands palm up. "Okay, your business, I get it. Just know I won't cover for you with Chitunde."

Her face softened at that and she ran a hand through her hair. "Can you tell him I'm sorry?"

"Wow, you're really leaving," he observed, creasing his eyebrows. "What's this really about, Liz? Why were these people after you?"

"It's a reminder."

"Of what?"

"The past."

"And on the day the art of deflection was reinvented we all stood in awe and watched," Jeremy said with a pout.

She sighed and stood next to him in the entrance to the hut.

"I can't tell you more, Jeremy." She let her head drop. "And if I don't leave, I will only put the village in danger. These men came here for me. More will come. I can't let them hurt anyone for my sake."

"As noble as you are beautiful," Jeremy said, stepping closer to her.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Has this line _ever_ worked for you?"

"It only needs to work once," he replied, tentatively putting a hand to her cheek and sweeping a finger over the smooth skin. Liz closed her eyes for a moment. It had been such a long time since anyone touched her with feeling like that-

"Stay. I'll take care of you," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her.

That shook her out of her silent reverie. Putting her hand on his chest, she put some distance between them and stopped him in his tracks.

"Jeremy, I can't."

"Why?"

"I just can't," she replied more forcefully. "Now let me go."

They stood for a moment measuring each other unti he silently nodded and moved to the side. "Fine."

"Goodbye," she threw over her shoulder as her form dissipated in the evening gloom.

A moment later he heard a car engine start from not far away and he cursed, reaching into his shirt pocket. She had stolen his car keys. Again.

He had been warned. He shook his head and reached for his mobile.

~o~O~o~

After another month of jumping around the world, Liz decided she had had enough. The Cabal had officially ceased to exist and she was done running. Red wasn't coming for her and at this point, she didn't want him to. She was done waiting, too. She bought a small beach house on Samoa, got a job as a counselor in a free clinic and did her best to try to build a new life from scratch. She would take whatever the pitiful remnants of the Cabal could throw at her with her chin held high. No bounty hunter was going to control her life any longer.

Days passed and she settled into her new life reasonably well. She took long walks on the beach, enjoyed the sun and got busy with her work. It was a lonely life but that was how she wanted it. Most of the time it was enough to ward off any memories or painful thoughts.

That evening, a month after she had gotten to Samoa, she had finished earlier and decided to go home along the beach. Usually she didn't venture there at this time to avoid tourists but on that bristling afternoon she just really felt like getting her feet wet in the ocean. The sight of the happy families, smiling couples and groups of friends laughing and joking around made her feel so isolated that when she got home, she dropped listlessly onto the bench on her small veranda and just stared numbly out into the sea, the salty breeze tangling her hair and tugging at the hem of her skirt.

She felt so incredibly lonely and lost it was almost like physical pain tearing through her heart, up her throat and lips, constricting her breaths and pulling her mouth into a thick, pinched line. She thought she had come to terms with her life as it was now but all it took was one reminder of what she had lost, and it all came apart like a house of cards under a whiff of air.

Back home in moments like this she would end up at Red's doorstep. He would welcome her with that half-smile he reserved only for her, offer her a drink (sometimes in a Mason jar, sometimes in a crystal tumbler) and tell her one lackadaisical story after another until she was laughing and asking him to tell her one more…the truth was, it didn't really matter what he was saying. For a moment, lost in his voice and in his eyes, she would forget how isolated and despondent she was, and so would he. She could listen to his deep baritone reading the yellow pages and never get bored. That was one of the things she missed most – his voice, telling her quirky tales and assuring her that everything was going to be all right and that he was there.

But he wasn't anymore and she had to finally get over it. They knew each other for a while but their lives had taken different turns and that was it. She ran a frustrated hand through her short hair and went inside. She instantly felt someone's presence and she slowly reached into her purse for her gun. In the corner of her eye she saw movement and pivoted on her heel, aiming her gun at the target. Her shoulders sagged in relief as she saw her neighbor's cat stretching on her windowsill.

"Hello, Julian," she said letting out a small sigh and putting her gun away. "You scared me," she admonished the cat just as he jumped onto the floor and meowed at her inquiringly. She laughed and scratched him behind the ears. "Yes, you will get your tuna."

She went in her small kitchen and grabbed a can out of the nearest cupboard.

"But you can't tell anything to your-" her voice died in her throat as she stepped back into the sitting room.

"You've changed your hair."

~o~O~o~

When Liz was in Asia, she once stayed in an ancient Buddhist temple in Chomolhari in Bhutan, a tiny kingdom lying hidden in the folds of the eastern Himalayas sandwiched between India and China. It was off the beaten track with almost no tourists, just the most devoted Chinese and Bhutanese pilgrims, so she was in no danger of being recognized. She was always a restless soul but for a time, she found some peace wandering the silent corridors of the temple situated at the base of the mountains, and wandering the shores of the holy lake Tseringma Lhatso. On one of those walks she met a solitary monk who sat on the very edge of the lake. Not wanting to disturb him, she tried to tiptoe carefully around him on the narrow path but just as she was behind him, he turned around and grabbed her by the hand. They eyed each other for a long while.

Liz had never been a particularly spiritual person – she had always been too focused on the material plane and her scientific mind had always questioned the idea of a greater force existing somewhere up in the sky. But then there was Red who believed in what could not be seen, in the invisible world of light and darkness, and hope and redemption.

_You live in a windowless room. But one day you will be able to look up and see the stars again_. So the monk had said to her all those months ago and she heard his words again now in her head as she looked into Red's eyes. And finally, she could see the stars again.

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time.

And they stood like that.

The silence between them was absolute, both of them suspended in their private bubble.

There was no confusion. Happiness. Safety. Affection. It felt like she was coming back, cold and weary, from a long lonely journey to a warm, bright and joyful home. Like someone had been waiting for her for a long, long time and was happy to see her. Like there was a cracking fire in the fireplace. Like there was a cat purring somewhere in the corner. Like it was snowing outside and there was hot tea on the table. Like a clock ticked away and moments passed, weeks, years, lifetimes. Like everything faded away but this safety. But his eyes.

She was swallowed whole by the emotion she found in his eyes. She felt like all those long months had never happened, like it was only yesterday that she had kissed him goodbye and stepped onto that jet.

She felt like putting her arms around him so much and laying her head on his chest, over his heart, to hear it beating and make sure he was really there, but then she would have to stop looking into his eyes. And she couldn't stop looking into his eyes.

His cerulean, changeable eyes were so open and clear as he gazed at her. They exuded a warmth and brightness that you felt laying on a meadow gazing up at a cloudless summer sky.

"Ray," she finally uttered the one single word that had become like a mantra, her voice breaking free from the world of emotion she had been holding bottled up for two years.

And then, as if she was released from a spell, she moved towards him, stopping just inches away from touching him. Very cautiously, as if afraid he might disappear any moment, she raised her hands to his straw fedora and tilted it back on his head just slightly. She held her breath as her hands gently cupped the sides of his face, and she let her thumbs softly graze over his cheekbones. His eyes followed her every movement with a worshipful look, as if he couldn't believe she was here as well, afraid that if he only took his eyes away from her, she would vanish like an ethereal wisp of morning mist chased away by the slightest breath of breeze.

"Lizzie," he uttered, his voice faltering and his eyes bright.

It was the way he spoke her name, like he wanted to explain everything to her, like he was hurting as well, that finally broke the last remnants of her composure. The tears lining her lashes broke free, scorching their way down her cheeks. With a shaking thumb, he wiped them away, and she found herself falling into his arms. She didn't try to stop the sobs that wracked her body, robbing it of the ability to speak and barely allowing a breath to be drawn.

"You found me," she said breathlessly.

"I will always find you, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair, his voice even deeper than usual.

She buried her head in his neck, placing her lips softly over the sensitive skin there and she felt him let out a shuddering breath. She breathed in his familiar scent. Rich but subtle and clean, elegant with hints of sandalwood. She felt like home. He was home. How could she have ever thought she could live a life without him in it? That she would ever be happy without him by her side?

Then he moved away and she got another look at him. He looked tired, worn even, but so incredibly handsome that it took her breath away all over again. There were so many thoughts ricocheting through her head, so many things she wanted to say, to ask…Then she noticed the change in his eyes, which had become inscrutable once again.

"Red?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

He avoided her gaze as he spoke, his features suddenly taken over by a drawn, somewhat tortured expression. "I have the last name on the Blacklist for you. Number one."

_tbc._

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Don't judge Red too harshly, everything will be explained next chapter...and reviews make me write faster;)


	12. Chapter 12

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N:** Sorry this chapter's been so long in coming. A bunch of RL stuff really kicked my a$$ these last days, and I had no time to write. Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews, they have really kept me itching to get back to the story! This chapter is the longest by far, and I hope it will make up for the long wait!

As always, big thanks to _inmate23_ for her patience and unwavering support!

**Disclaimer:** Obviously.

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**Chapter 12**

"_I have the last name on the blacklist for you. Number one."_

Liz would be lying to herself if she said she hadn't imagined this moment once or a hundred times. But not even her wildest dreams could measure up to the reality. A reality in which Red wasn't taking her in his arms and kissing the living daylights out of her but standing a safe distance away, eyeing her carefully and with a hint of uncertainty.

Letting her anger simmer for a while, she took a moment to fully take him in for the first time. He looked very different from the TV broadcasts and press photos. He looked like hell. She could see he wasn't sleeping well, his suit hung on his frame loosely and there was the tell-tale pink skin of a new scar above his right brow.

She swallowed, trying to quash the warmth and concern that were quickly settling in her stomach and threatening to cloud her anger and disappointment. She knew how to react when Red was facetious, deflecting, or angry but when he was so worn-out, when he looked so _human_, she found that even after all this time she was at a loss.

"Is this everything you've got to tell me?"

His eyes searched her face warily, his mouth pinched in a thin line, before he replied. "Believe me, I have so much to tell you, Lizzie," he said softly and she felt her anger scale down. "-but the Blacklist comes first." And then it was aflame again.

"Why the hell would I want to have anything to do with your goddamn Blacklist anymore?" she exclaimed angrily. "Why do _you_ want to have to do anything with it anymore? Aren't you done?"

"Lizzie, I understand your anger-"

She let out a mirthless laugh. "I don't think you do," she said. "So let me enlighten you. I've been on the run for two years, living in constant fear, hunted, followed and attacked," she listed, her voice starting to break. Red looked at her, his eyes suspiciously bright. "I've been away from home and everything and everyone I know and care about. I had come to terms with the fact that all of them, including the person I cared about the most, had moved on with their lives. Elisabeth Keen had become a memory to them and to myself. I dealt with that. And then suddenly you appear as if nothing had happened, as if we saw each other yesterday, and all you have to say to me is that we have to finish the Blacklist?!" she was screaming now but she didn't care. All the emotions that she had been keeping bottled up were suddenly spilling over and she didn't have the will nor the strength to keep them at bay anymore. Red stood there motionlessly but she thought she noticed a tremor ghost over his features. "Well, you know what? Screw the Blacklist and screw you!" she exclaimed, anger clouding her vision, and shot out of the apartment.

~o~O~o~

"The gentleman's buying," the bartender announced to Liz and put a glass of club soda in front of her. She looked up from her third shot of rum at the glass and frowned. The bastard just didn't give up. Well, she was going to make clear to him she would rather drink gasoline than anything he bought her. It may be childish but it was no less satisfactory for it. She slowly turned around on her barstool.

"Red, you can go and shove- Dembe?!"

"Hello, Elisabeth."

She jumped off the bar stool and gave him a tight hug. "I missed you." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "And thank you for the postcards." At each of Red's secret stashes she used over the last two years she found a card with words of encouragement written in Dembe's neat handwriting. She still had all of them stored in the lining of her travelling bag.

Dembe smiled. "I had them put in all of Raymond's stashes. The next time _he_ uses one of them, he might be a bit surprised."

Liz reciprocated his light chuckle and then looked around. "Where is he?"

"In the car," the bodyguard replied, his expression turning serious. "He would like to see you but he's afraid he'll upset you even more."

Liz allowed herself a small sigh. "I'm not sure it's humanly possible to be any more upset."

"You can always throw a glass at his head," Dembe suggested.

"Well, now that's an idea," she replied ruminatively.

"When you do, give me heads up so that I can take photos," he asked with a small smile.

Liz blinked. "So you also don't approve of this charade?"

"I don't know why he's doing it," Dembe admitted with a rueful shake of his head. "He wouldn't tell me anything. All I know is that there wasn't a single day he didn't talk about you, Elisabeth. Not a day went by that he didn't have his people try to track you down. He- We truly missed you."

She felt a prick of regret at her earlier outburst but tried to hold on to her anger desperately. These were the words she wanted to hear so badly but she couldn't let herself let go so easily. Not yet.

"Well, the publicity and the ladies definitely helped," she replied bitterly.

"It was for show, Elisabeth. You must know that," he expostulated.

"Must I?"

"I'm glad you are fine," he said with a knowing glance, squeezed her arm and moved back to the entrance. She jumped back onto her stool and took a big gulp of the drink in front of her. She made a face realizing Dembe had ordered her club soda. She didn't get to order a proper drink before she felt an unmistakable presence by her side.

"Why did it take you so long to find me?" she asked without turning towards him.

A little tic flickered at the corner of Red's mouth. "It wasn't safe, Lizzie. I only managed to take down the last assassin sent after you last month in Kenya with the help of my men on the ground there."

A realization dawned on her and she turned to him. "Jeremy. He was one of yours."

"The first one that managed to track you down," Red confirmed. "I've sent dozens in the last months ever since the Director was brought down but you were too good. The man you know as Jeremy was supposed to follow you but not contact me until the last of the assassins sent after you was dealt with, or if he lost you. Both things happened at the same time but you were already off the grid again. It took me the last month to trace you to here. I don't have so many contacts as I used to."

Liz took a moment to process this. It all sounded so believable, so logical. It sounded _true_. But she knew Red's mastery with words so she remained distrustful.

"And you really couldn't have sent even a word that you were safe, that everything was going as planned?"

"I wanted to so much, Lizzie," he assured her in a voice even lower than usual, and his eyes told her that their estrangement was as hard on him as it had been on her. She turned her gaze away. "But I couldn't take the risk of compromising your safety. The Cabal became completely volatile and unpredictable in their final scramble for survival and they would have stopped at nothing. I could not let that happen," he vowed vehemently. "But I am sorry, Lizzie," he continued, dropping his voice to merely a whisper. "I know how hard it must have been for you."

Liz swallowed realizing that he really did know. He was perhaps the only person on the planet who could know. After all, some twenty years ago, the same thing had happened to him – alone, on the run, chased by the Cabal.

"What do you need me for with this Blacklister, Red? Why would I do this?" she asked not looking at him. The look of guilt and regret in his eyes was too much for her to bear without letting the tears building at the backs of her eyes flow.

"Because we are a team. Because you need closure," he reasoned, the usual confidence back in his voice. "We both do. That's why you've been waiting for me, Lizzie. That's why you're listening to me, and that's why you haven't thrown that glass at me yet."

She remained silent but turned towards him. "It's tempting, believe me."

He gave her a half-smile. "Also, because you're curious," he added, tilting his head to the side in an achingly familiar gesture, and gave her a knowing look. "And when we're done, I will give you my jet to take you wherever in the world you want. I will disappear and you will never hear from me again. But you have to give me this one thing, Lizzie. This one last Blacklister."

She swallowed as she tried to untangle the jungle of colliding thoughts in her head. Then her eyes fell on the round ragged scar on the side of his neck, now in full view as his shirt collar was unbuttoned. The scar from a pen wedged into his carotid. He could have had it stitched up or removed surgically but instead he had chosen to leave the wound to heal on its own and forever keep her mark on his skin.

As if hypnotized, she slowly reached out and gently touched her finger to the sensitive skin right over the scar.

Red was motionless, his eyes carefully trained on her face as she focused on the marred skin and shivered slightly at the sparks going over her skin at touching him for the first time in two years. Nothing had changed. Her reaction to his was just as vehement and strong as ever. She looked into his eyes and they were so open, telling her everything he wasn't able to articulate in words. His gaze told her of heartache and longing and fear.

It was like looking in the mirror. She swallowed.

She wanted to hold on to her anger, to simmer and boil in it, but Red's explanation and the raw emotion and guilt in his voice made her desperate hold on that anger slip. There was a plea for her understanding and forgiveness in his gaze and she found in her heart of hearts that at some level, she had already forgiven him. Forgiven. But not forgotten.

"I will need to pack first."

~o~O~o~

Liz sat just opposite him on the plane, which he took as a good sign in itself, and she fell asleep soon after they reached their flight altitude. Dembe was also dozing off in the front but for Red, as usual, Morpheus remained elusive. Even though dark thoughts didn't plague him as they used to, at least not with their former ferocity, they were still there and whenever he was more vulnerable, they would rear their ugly heads. He might have been exonerated but his criminal life, the filth he was forced to live in for so long, would forever taint his soul and conscience.

It weighed on him even though he had systematically been discarding the filth in the last two years – slowly selling off his empire piece by piece, removing himself from the picture and placing his former second-in-commands in his stead. By that point in time all his underground businesses were sold and divided, and all that remained were legit undertakings and safe investments. He was worth even more than before.

Never did he expect his plan to go so well. Except for one part. His gaze strayed to Lizzie, deeply buried under a blanket and snoring very softly.

When he laid eyes on her for the first time in so many months, he was completely paralyzed. All the emotions that he had managed to keep at bay when she wasn't there, that he thought he had finally gained control over, came crashing back at him with an intensity that took his breath away and all he could do was just stare at her.

She was still his Lizzie but she was also a completely new person, forged in the crucible of danger and fire. She was harder now. Wiser. Stronger. Her frame was even leaner, her hair was short and the bright light in her eyes he loved so much was dimmed. Long gone was the bright-eyed girl, and the ambitious rookie FBI profiler with her whole career in front of her. Whatever Red did in his struggle to protect her, that person was no more. In her stead was a hard-eyed, tough, tired woman who had eluded the best assassins in the business for two years and travelled the world with only the clothes on her back. It pained him how much of that was of his doing. He had turned her path so far away from what she had intended for herself that he was no better than the assassins sent after her. He clenched his teeth. The one part of his plan that had gone so very wrong. The one part that really mattered.

He rubbed his eyes, chalking off the tears building up under his eyelids as fatigue.

It would be better for her if he just let her go. Leave her to live out her life as far away from him as possible, in peace and safety. He had done enough damage in her life. But he was selfish that way. He could not let her go without finally knowing, once and for all.

And the final Blacklister would help him with that.

~o~O~o~

"What is this place?" Liz asked astounded, entering the vast hall after Red. "It's huge."

They had landed on a private airstrip on the suburbs of Charleston and after a short car ride they found themselves in one of the most beautiful places Liz had ever seen. The obviously historical mansion was tucked into a hauntingly beautiful garden with old trees, and felt stuck in a time when life was so wonderfully slow. It had a white columned façade, wide veranda, and gabled roof that oozed history. Lush wisteria vines winding around the columns completed the picture, providing a fragrant drapery for the guests entering the house.

When they came in, Liz couldn't help but gape at the equally charming interior, opulently furnished with fireplaces, hardwood floors, 15-foot ceilings, and patterned textiles.

"This was my grandmother's house," Red explained and Liz turned to him in surprise. It was the first time Red had taken her of his own will to a place that had personal value to him. "The vaudevillian with a French accent? I believe I told you about her once."

She nodded slowly and gave him a small smile. "I guess vaudeville paid pretty well back then."

"Not really, no." He chuckled. "Cotton and oil did, though, courtesy of my grandfather."

She stared a little and finally said, "It's really beautiful, Red."

"Thank you," he gave her a small smile. "Please feel at home. Your room is on the first floor in the western wing. Dembe will show you the way. There are some wardrobe choices for the reception tonight where we will meet my contact."

"No FBI?"

He shook his head. "God, no! We wouldn't want them botching things up!" He exclaimed, his voice rising with a chuckle. "It's just you and me, Lizzie, and plain old undercover."

"And what am I this time?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your girlfriend from Ann Arbor? Your child bride?"

"How about my niece from Nantuckett?" he said, narrowing his eyes slightly at her. "Come for the first time to a big city to enjoy the pleasures of civilization under the protective wings of her uncle?"

"I prefer to be the child bride," she retorted. "What time is the reception?"

"In an hour."

Her eyes widened. "I can't get reception-beautiful in that time!"

"You're already beautiful," Red said calmly, his tone matter-of-fact as he grabbed a decanter from a reading table to pour himself a drink.

She stopped on the threshold and looked at him quickly, hard, but he was busy pouring himself the drink.

"Okay," she finally said. "I'll be ready if you promise to tell me who the Blacklister is."

He raised his head at that. "Today or just sometime in the undisclosed future?"

"At the reception, Red."

He pursed his lips but nodded. She inclined her head in agreement and followed Dembe up the stairs.

~o~O~o~

Liz had not worn such fine clothes or bathed in such luxurious conditions in the last two years, if ever. She felt like a new person when she stepped down the stairs. Her short hair was smoothed down to one side, fastened with discreet diamond-adorned clips that sparkled when she moved her head. Her dress fit her like a glove and it was easily the most beautiful piece of clothing she had ever worn – it was blood-colored satin, with rows of black bows down the front and straps that crossed in back, showing her slim shoulders and back to great advantage. She chose red stilettos and a turquoise clutch to go with that – she made her choice instantaneously seeing the latter in the wardrobe among a dozen others. She couldn't help herself, it brought back memories of another party they attended together so long ago it seemed like in another lifetime.

When she came down, Red was waiting at the foot of the stairs sporting a perfectly cut tux and looked, if possible, even more put-together and elegant than usually. He was leaning against the railing slightly, radiating detached irony and aloof confidence. And then his gaze wandered up and landed on her and she could see his expression shift and merge into something much softer.

"You look dazzling, Lizzie," he said with a delighted little breathless laugh that made her a little breathless herself. He offered her his arm, "Shall we?"

~o~O~o~

The ballroom was magnificent. Crystal chandeliers hanging from a dramatic 18-foot ceiling gave off a brilliant, sparkling light. The creamy-colored walls were adorned with subtle golden patterns and tapestries sewn in golden thread that reflected the light of the chandeliers. A door on the side opened onto an elegantly decorated patio, letting in the pungent evening Southern air and filling the hall with the enticing smell of magnolias and wisterias.

The gathered guests were as shiny, brilliant and beautiful as the hall itself. It was apparently a fund-raiser party of sorts and the whole crème de la crème of the Charleston society was gathered. Red knew each and every one of them. The next two hours were spent shaking hands and being introduced to other guests. Liz did her best to keep her distance from Red but she soon found it a losing battle. They both seemed to drift towards each other, Red's arm ever so often softly encircling her waist or resting at her back. His glances became longer and she was mesmerized by the warmth she saw in them. She couldn't remember when she had last felt like that, wanting and wanted. It was intoxicating and overwhelming and she just wanted to push the pause button. To just stop and wait for a second, for them to get their bearing, to know where they stood.

And then suddenly as they turned around to be introduced to some local media tycoon and his son, Liz's stomach fell to the floor.

"Hello, Raymond!"

On the arm of the said media tycoon was none other than Madeline Pratt, looking as dashing and beautiful as always.

Red's face remained frozen in that polite courtesy expression he had been employing the whole evening. He didn't show any surprise at all when he greeted her in a loud tone, "My, Maddie, it's been too long!" and proceeded to kiss her lightly.

When Red moved away, Madeline's eyes landed on her and Liz stuck her chin out a little.

"We've met already, haven't we?" she asked.

"Do all you beautiful women know each other?" Red interrupted with a breezy laugh.

Madeline narrowed her eyes slightly at Liz. "Yes, we have a club. And please remind me, you are-"

"I'm Beth," Liz replied sweetly and gave her a brilliant smile.

Madeline didn't seem in the least bit satisfied with that but the conversation then switched to her partner. Liz was only too happy when almost instantly the son of Madeline's partner asked her to dance. She danced with him, then with another and another and Red was still talking to Madeline.

Until he wasn't anymore because he was looming over the shoulder of her current dance partner.

"May I cut in?" he asked but didn't really heed the man's answer as he effortlessly whisked Liz out of the other man's embrace and stepped forward, putting his own arms around her.

He rested his hands neatly on her waist, feeling the warmth of her against his chest. He looked down and into her face, which was charmingly flushed from dancing and the champagne, her eyes alight. Her hair, the color of molten dark chocolate, sparkled with the little diamonds she had pinned into it and emphasized the lighter delicate strands that reflected the golden chandelier light. She had never looked more beautiful.

"So, how's it going with Maddie?" she couldn't help the bitter note in her voice.

"Lizzie, you know how I feel about jealous women but I have to say, it's really becoming on you."

"Red, this is not a joke. Not anymore."

"You haven't denied it."

"What if I haven't? It's not like you don't know already," she replied, her tone laced with resignation.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Know what, Lizzie?"

She pulled back a little, looking up into his face with her eyes wide and luminous with emotion. They had stopped dancing now, and he felt that heat, that thickening of his blood that always happened when she looked at him this way. "Know why I came with you. Why I'm doing all this."

"Why, Lizzie?" he rasped out, his voice merely a whisper.

"First make good on your promise," she deflected. "The Blacklister. Have you met your contact yet? Is it Pratt?"

Red sighed. "Can we enjoy this dance without any of that Blacklist banter?" he asked with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Suddenly a realization hit her. She stepped back from him, searching his face but his expression was inscrutable.

"I need some fresh air," she said curtly and turned around from him, heading straight for the patio.

Thankfully, it was empty. She braced herself against the stone railing and looked out into the night, taking deep breaths of air. She didn't have to wait long for him.

"Lizzie-"

"Just answer one question to me. And it better be the truth, Red."

He slowly nodded.

"There is no number one, is there?" she said, her tone low.

He gave her a long look. "No," he finally agreed. "Not anymore. It was the Director." His deep voice that she found so riveting was little more than a gravelly, broken whisper.

Anger and disappointment washed through her, turning her eyes almost violet. But this time her anger was borne out of ice-cold resignation and it didn't control her. She controlled it and when she spoke, her voice was even.

"Nothing has changed, has it? I'm still your puppet, and you still won't let me make my own choices. You never give me the full truth, just pieces that lead me where you need to go, that make me dance how you need me to dance." She shook her head. "Every single time I come to terms with who you are, with my feelings for you-" His eyes flashed at that but she didn't notice and continued, "-you do this. Another game, another manipulation. Now I see how naïve I was – I thought it would change now that you're free and not a criminal anymore but it will never change, will it? Because that's who you are. You're so twisted up in your dishonesty and games that you have no idea how to act like a decent human being."

The sorrow and heartache gathered between them in thick waves and neither spoke for a long time. It was Liz who finally broke the silence.

"I can't live like that anymore, Red. Never again," and with that, she turned around and stepped into the night. "I need some peace not the chaos you bring wherever you go."

Red stood there motionlessly, finally allowing emotion to take over his features. His face was full of grief, a dull, heavy, angry grief that he would never find the words to say. Lizzie's face and the expression on it when she looked at him when he hadn't denied his ruse – not quite rage, not quite hurt, not quite disappointment, but a far worse combination of all three. That look would haunt him for long years.

He felt a heavy burden weigh him down and he had to ease himself on one of the stone benches at the wall. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He started to undo the buttons of his tux with quick, deliberate movements but it didn't help much. He still felt like he was choking on air.

To the outside world he showed a composed and stoic front, something he had become a master of. The walls he built around himself were the best way he knew how to protect himself. This time around, it wasn't working. At least not as he intended it to. All he managed to do was to finally drive her away for the last time because he couldn't just be truthful and upfront for once. Because he couldn't let go of what he had become. Because he was so unsure of her that he wanted her to speak first so that he wouldn't get hurt again. And now she would never speak to him again.

~o~O~o~

After her initial anger had simmered down and the chilly night air had dried the last of her tears, Liz sat on a bench under an especially beautiful dogwood tree overflowing with soft rose flowers and looked out into the night with unseeing eyes. Her eyes went back to the evening and the sadness in Red's eyes.

But apart from the sadness, there was also fear, she now realized. Red had made her up in his mind into a perfect image, his ray of light and his only hope and it must be truly intimidating for him to show to her, this ideal Lizzie, his soft underbelly and his real self. Hence the charades. It wasn't that he liked it, she got the feeling he hated it as much as she did as a remnant of his old persona, but he did it out of fear. It didn't make it right but it made her understand. It would have taken her weeks to see that once but now, after all she had been though, it was clear to her in that instant. Red was the victim of the same fear she saw every morning when she looked in the mirror. She was no more flawless than Red was. She just had to make him see that.

There was only one light on in the mansion. She tiptoed her way inside and headed right for it. Always vigil, Dembe watched her from his seat outside the door and she gave him a small, if somewhat teary-eyed, smile as she went past and into the small living room that Red inhabited.

He was seated in an armchair, with a glass of brownish liquid in his hand that could only be bourbon. He was still wearing his tux slacks, shirt and vest but his jacket was gone, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and the top three buttons loose. She swallowed, reigning in her suddenly waning courage.

"Red?"

He didn't make any move to indicate he acknowledged her presence.

"Red."

"What are you doing here, Elisabeth? You shouldn't be here."

He wasn't glad to see her. She swallowed. This was not going as she expected. "I've been thinking, Red."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Do tell, Lizzie, you certainly haven't used up my quota of soul-searching for the day yet."

She frowned at him but stood her ground. She would do what she came here to do. "Maybe I don't need peace after all. Maybe I feel more comfortable in chaos." He finally looked at her and she continued. "And I understand why you did what you did. I may not be okay with it but I understand."

He narrowed his slightly unfocused eyes on her, a fleeting spark lighting his gaze for a moment. "Do you?"

"Yes, and I'm still here."

"Yes, why are you here?"

"Please stop answering me with questions."

"Am I answering you with questions?"

"And now you're just trying to piss me off."

"And witness my success."

She glared at him. He had sunk farther into the depths of the armchair, and was regarding her with a weary, sad expression.

Liz leveled him with a stern gaze. "You're drunk," she said, suspicion turning into certainty.

"I am not," he said in an injured voice, brushing a hand over the side of his head. "Not yet. I've only had two glasses of whiskey and unfortunately all I am is slightly tipsy."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Red, didn't you hear what I said? I'm here," she enunciated. "You reminded me that there's so much life around, so much love, you just have to be open to it. And all I've done is close myself off. But in the last two days I spent with you…I felt more alive than in the last two years."

He drew himself up a little. "Lizzie-"

"The thing is, you have to let me make my own choices because my life is no longer in danger," she lowered her voice and gathered her thoughts before looking back at him with renewed courage as she continued in a soft but firm tone. "You don't have to protect me all the time, Red. You don't have to play games with me anymore."

His eyes sparked again, this time with more energy than he had displayed during their entire conversation. He got to his feet, swaying only slightly as he did so.

"What if I can't help myself?" he asked, taking another step closer to her, and reached out to touch her hair. "What if I indeed am damaged beyond repair? A lost cause, if there ever was one?"

"No one is a lost cause," she replied, her voice tight. "And you most of all. You can be redeemed. You've done so much already. But there is one thing you got wrong. I am not some plaster saint you can park on a pedestal. I am not a ray of light or a paragon of goodness. I'm not going to wash away your sins. But I can be there with you and for you. You just have to finally let me inside, to the real you. No games, no ruses."

His hand left her hair to touch her cheek and shocks ran through her skin like small electrical currents. Up close, she could smell the alcohol he had been drinking, laid over the familiar smell of him that she recalled: rich but subtle, elegant with hints of musk and sandalwood.

She took in a deep breath before she continued. "I'm a flesh-and-blood person and whether you wanted it or not, I'm like you, Ray. Solitary outcast with a murky past and uncertain future. So you can just stop. I've seen you at your worst and at your best and I'm still here. What does it tell you?"

"You are nothing like me, Lizzie. You could never be," he said in a low voice into her ear. "You don't know me. You think you do, but you don't. You don't understand what I really am. If you understood, you would be miles away from here," he replied scathingly, his tone laced with self-loathing.

She looked up at him, his words and his tone tearing at her.

"Red, you can't do this to yourself. Not anymore. You're exonerated. You're free. You're safe-"

"The end doesn't always justify the means, Lizzie," he interjected her. "I was once an honorable, honest man but the life I was forced to lead in order to bring about this end was anything but. I became a criminal and a murderer. When you deal with dark, it gets in you. The blood of so many innocent people is on my hands. Everything good that I have ever done is tainted. I've even managed to taint your life."

"No!" Liz placed the palms of her hands flat against his chest, desperately trying to communicate some of the intensity of what she felt. "That's not true! You're not responsible for other people's actions, nor for what they put you through or made you do."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Lizzie, you can't possibly believe that."

She fixed his gaze with hers. "Listen to me. Only the spirit that is capable of evil is capable of overcoming it. You've overcome your evils, Red. You saved an orphan from a fire that nearly killed you. You saved countless other lives. You have literally brought about world peace!" she exclaimed. "You've been manipulative, violent and you killed people but you were never really evil. So you can just...stop. Stop this whole 'I've got blood on my hands and I'm so evil' business. You're not anymore. You haven't been for a long time now. You're just a person, Raymond Reddington, like anybody else. And your problem isn't that you're evil. It's that you're scared. You hold on to this Concierge of Crime bullshit because it's an excuse to run away from what's good in your life. Because you feel way more comfortable with what's bad in it - the guilt and self-loathing that have been with you for more than twenty years. And because if that, somewhere along the way you've lost the ability to simply feel good and happy. You had to live in the darkness for so long that you don't know how to live in the light anymore. So you make up reasons to stay in the dark because it feels safer."

She stopped in her rant, breathing deeply. He just stood there and stared at her.

"But let me tell you, it's just a bunch of self-indulgent crap!" She poked him hard in the chest and he goggled at her in astonishment. "You are the bravest man I know and you let fear rule you like this! I expected more from you! I _deserve_ more from you!"

She caught herself up short, gasping for air. She blinked. She had been shouting, literally shouting at Red and she all but called him stupid and a coward. She didn't know she still held so much anger and emotion about this. Red seemed to be bringing about a side of her that no one else ever did. The best and the worst at the same time.

Astonished, she raised her face slowly and saw him looking down at her, the strangest sort of expression in his eyes.

"Ray," her voice broke. "I'm sor-"

-_sorry_, she was about to say but before she had a chance to finish, or to even think it, Red took her by the arms, pulled her forward, and kissed her hard.

~o~O~o~

It felt nothing like the chaste kiss they shared before she had left two years ago. As his lips crushed hers, Liz felt like she was walking on air. The kiss obliterated her every thought. Her only desire was to touch him, to move her hands under the smooth layer of his shirt and vest and feel his skin against hers. In moments the soft caress had become more firm, and she savored his lips and the quickening of his breath that matched her own. The kiss spoke of desire, longing and passion pent up for longer than they both cared to admit. His mouth was so warm, the touch of his lips softer than she could have imagined and she opened her mouth with a low moan. She was hot and cold at the same time, she was melting into him and nothing else mattered than the feel of his lips on hers, his fingers scorching a path over her back-

"How long are you planning to keep this up?" came an irritable voice from the right. "Because I was trying to shower my way through this but honestly, you are making so much noise it's embarrassing."

Liz felt like someone had just dumped a huge bucket of ice-cold water on her. She leapt away from Red and pivoted on her foot.

Madeline Pratt was standing in the bathroom door with a bored expression on her face. She wore a luminous white nightgown that had slipped partially off her shoulder and her blonde hair showered down around her in a golden halo. She looked astonishing and Liz loathed her with a passion so intense she found herself completely speechless. Instead, she just gaped.

Red, however, didn't look embarrassed at all. "Maddie. I'd forgotten all about you," he said, his tone unfazed.

"That much," said Madeline, looking amused, "was obvious."

Red shook his head. Gazing at him, Liz was startled to see she had managed to get more of his clothes off than she thought. His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, a fact which didn't seem to bother him at all as he stood there, looking at Madeline irritably. "Well, you should have said something," he remarked.

"Like what? 'Excuse me?' Please. You were busy." She stepped into the room, her hips swaying as she went to the table and poured herself a glass of bourbon. She gave Liz a long look from over the brim. "I thought you were done with the little agent," she continued with a smirk. "This is truly a fascinating development. She is cute but she still is much too young for you, Red."

Liz had had enough. "You will not talk about me like I'm not here!"

Madeline narrowed her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," she purred in a sweet voice. "I think I've forgotten your name."

"Of course you have," Liz ground out. "You blonde conniving bitch!"

"I most certainly am not!"

"Not what? Really blonde? Now there's a shocker!"

There was a sound from the side and Liz realized it was Red, choking down a chuckle. She turned to him. "Tell me right now," she demanded. "What is she doing in your bathroom dressed like that?"

"Enjoying a shower, I believe. Lizzie, this is not-"

"What it looks like to me," she interjected furiously, "is that you've been having it off with Madame Cheap Tart over here!" She let her anger take over, not wanting to let the even more painful feeling of disappointment and hurt get to her. Not now. Not in front of them both. She didn't want to give them any more entertainment at her expense than she already had. "Which is fine, do whatever you want. But you could have told me we have an audience!"

"I forgot," he replied honestly, setting to buttoning his shirt.

"You forgot," she echoed, the tears she was holding at bay threatening to overflow. "Then please also forget about me. About everything I've said. Because I'm sure as hell forgetting about you, about this, starting now!"

And with that, she turned around and quickly walked out, the tears spilling in an uncontrollable cascade over her cheeks.

"Was it something I said?" Madeline asked innocently as the door closed after Liz with a loud bang.

~o~O~o~

"Are you here to give me a talking-to as well?" Red asked with resignation, watching from the corner of his eye Dembe walk in silently as a cat.

Madeline had left with a loud bang of her own a while after Lizzie had and Red was left with silence and his drink, which he downed in one big gulp.

"No, Raymond, I think you've had enough of that. I'm here to have a drink with you."

Red turned to Dembe with surprise and watched his friend pour himself a thumb of alcohol and sit in the armchair next to him. They sat in companionable silence watching the sun slowly rise in a yellowish ball of light, coloring the skies and trees with hues of pink and orange. It was going to be another scorchingly hot day.

"Say it," Red finally said, the prolonged silence finally proving unbearable.

"You- are a coward, Raymond," Dembe said silently with feeling. "And this self-loathing and guilt, it doesn't suit you. It's driving away all the good things in your life."

"What would you have me do, then?" Red asked irritably.

"Raymond, any man who loves a woman so much as you do Elisabeth, he would just go and get her. Without all the games and lies."

"It's not that simple." Red sighed, running a hand over his shortly cut hair. "She was right, Dembe. That is who I am and I can't do it any differently."

"That is not true, Raymond," Dembe objected. "It's fear that's making you be like this."

"It's not fear. It's simply who I am, and I have no choice about that."

"No, you have a choice," Dembe insisted. "You can live in a place of fear or believe in the best version of yourself, Raymond. The version she believes in already."

Red's eyes shot towards him, a lively spark coloring them to a cerulean green. "You witnessed yesterday's debacle, Dembe. Lizzie and I - we simply don't get along together," he objected weakly.

"You get along even worse apart," retorted Dembe in a decided manner.

~o~O~o~

Still wearing her gown, she sat on the furthest removed of the benches at the harbor boulevard, looking out onto the ocean. It seemed like all she had done in the last hours was sit on benches and scream at Red. She was already exhausted and the man had been back in her life for less than 48 hours.

She ran a hand over her face. Later she would check into a hotel, buy some normal clothes and book a flight back to Samoa but right now she just wanted a moment of peace. The last forty-eight hours had been a crazy roller coaster. Red had once again caught her in a whirlwind of frantic activity and emotions and she needed to catch a breath. The ocean did that for her, although for reasons she rejected right now.

It wasn't love at first sight. She used to be afraid of vast bodies of water and only came to love the ocean on her travels, where, whenever she could, she tried to choose to stay somewhere close to it. It gave her the impression that when she sat on its shore, it seemed like there was only the ocean between them. It threaded a sense of hope into her heart and eased her fears. Like if she put her lungs to it and shouted loud enough, her voice would carry enough for him to hear her on the other shore.

So stupid.

"I thought you'd appreciate a cup of coffee right about now."

She closed her eyes, trying to ward off the tears that instantly built up on her lashes at the deep voice that came from her right.

"How did you find me?"

"I think I told you that I will always find you, Lizzie," he said as he sat himself on the other end of the bench, placing the cup of hot coffee between them and carefully not looking at her.

After a moment of silence, she accepted the cup and took a sip. It tasted heavenly and she could already feel her muddled brain waking up.

Red nodded, relieved that she was accepting the temporary cease-fire.

"Nothing happened between me and Maddie."

She snorted over her coffee in reply.

Red sighed. "Lizzie, she got dumped by her date and I offered her a room-"

"Your room."

"Lizzie, please. Nothing happened or could ever happen between me and Maddie. Between me and any other woman," he assured her, locking his gaze with hers. "How could it when I'm so hopelessly in love with you?"

She stared at him, her breath baited. He gave her a small, resigned smile.

"You said I lived in the dark too long to be able to live in the light anymore."

"I- I didn't think you remembered a word from what I said."

He let out a small laugh. "I might not have looked it but I remember every single moment, Lizzie," he said with a meaningful glance.

She stared at him harder, trying not to get too light-headed and failing miserably.

"You were right," he acquiesced, dropping his head a little. "I'm afraid to make that step on my own," he said, raising his head to meet her eyes. "Teach me how to live in the light. Save me, Lizzie. Be my light. You're the only one who can."

Liz let out a shaking breath, closing her eyes because if she continued to look into his, she would drown. Instead she turned to look at the horizon.

She took a moment to take in the ocean before turning back to him, her eyes bright and wide. "I think you know I love you."

He simply stared at her, his face an immobile mask of astonishment and something much deeper. She saw he never expected her to say it back and it filled he with an even deeper feeling of warmth but also sadness. She leaned in closer, putting her coffee aside and taking his face in his hands. She placed the gentlest of kisses to his nose, his cheeks, the corner of his lips.

When she moved away, he asked in a hoarse whisper, "Say it again."

She smiled. "I love you, Raymond Reddington. And I would do anything for you," she added but she knew there was more she had to say as well. "But you've brought so much heartache and pain into my life, Ray. How can I be sure this time will be different? Can you promise me that it will?"

He could lie. He could talk her into this but Lizzie deserved more from him. He loved her too much.

"No," he said, his voice somber and lower than usual. "All I can do is promise that I will do everything in my power to try to make you happy."

"Why couldn't you lie just once, Ray?" she asked.

"I will never lie to you," he said, his voice colored with deep sorrow as he got up and stood in front of her. "Tomorrow morning I'm leaving this country for good. My last and best disappearance act. My yacht is sailing from this marina at nine. My jet is at your disposal. You have all the cards on the table now, Lizzie. I am letting you make your choice. I'm setting you free."

She looked up at him. He smiled at her and let his hand touch gently to her cheek, the tips of his fingers roaming over the high curve of her cheekbones and then her lips. She closed her eyes and sighed, relishing in his touch and the electric blades it sent through her skin.

Then, like a whiff of air, his touch was gone and he with it. She opened her eyes to see his back disappear in the distance.

She looked back out into the ocean, her thoughts as turbulent as the dark waves licking up the shore.

_tbc._

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So, what do you think Liz will choose? Another cliff-hanger, I know, but this is officially the last one – you will get the answer in the next chapter, which will be the final one. I hope you'll stay tuned for the last part of this small odyssey!

In the meantime, I hope you liked this and if Lizzington gives you squiggles in your heart too (or makes you feel anything at all really) then please review! :D


	13. Epilogue: All the Light to Guide Us Home

**The Ocean Between Us**

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**A/N: **So, the final chapter with a final twist! This was my first multi-chapter Blacklist story and I'd like to thank especially my beta _inmate23 _for her immense help and encouragement!

Also, I would like to give **a big shout out to:** _oO-Winchester-Oo, Michelle My Belle, tinahartley912, Literary Bitca, Maddz2, Lacihenry14, terry1961, PoisonGirl616, Reddington, NeedTheDark, dasha-0391, SomeLikeItHot88, Red03_ and _Murmeltierchen_ for their regular reviews and support that helped me keep the flame of this story alive!

If I've omitted anyone, do forgive me, and to be clear, **I loved ALL your reviews, favs and alerts! You've all showed me that the TBL fandom is one of the best, bringing together truly welcoming and amazing people:)**

So, thanks to all of you for joining me on this journey! I hope you'll enjoy this final chapter and I'll meet you at the bottom :)

**Disclaimer: **Still have nothing to do with TBL except for obsessing over it;)

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**Epilogue: All the Light to Guide Us Home**

_When we don't say things_

_That were meant to be said_

_We will never know what we'll be missing here_

_If there's something we can do_

_To fulfill our want for nothing_

_And our need to be rescued alive_

_We have all the light to guide us home_

_All the time to heal our wounds_

_We have all the skill to fix what's broken_

_And all we ever wanted_

_I see you, I see you losing yourself_

_Falling through, the sound of nothingness_

_The precious moment is come_

_Time to refill our emptiness_

_And ignite our souls again_

_We have all the light to guide us home_

_All the time to heal our wounds_

_We have all the skill to fix what's broken_

_Nothing else is needed_

_We have all we ever wanted_

_~ 'All We Ever Wanted'_, Klas Wahlstedt and Per Blomqvist ~

"We will be ready for departure soon, Miss Keen. If you need anything, please let me know."

"Thank you." Liz gave the flight attendant a tight smile and settled deeper into her seat. She looked out the window – the sun was rising, all blood and fire, over the private hangars and trees in the distance. It reflected her grim mood and thoughts well.

She hadn't slept a wink at night, tossing and turning until she finally resigned herself to sitting on her hotel room's balcony with her eyes fixed at the horizon. Red had said he was setting her free. She didn't feel free. She felt like there were invisible hands tightening around her throat, choking her, squeezing the life out of her.

It was only when she finally stopped fighting and just gave herself up to it, clarity came. She knew what she had to do. She loved Red unconditionally, like she had never loved anyone before, and probably never would. But there was something between them that, if they gave themselves up to it, would burn them both up and leave nothing behind. Red would survive it, he was so strong, but all that would be left of her would be charred ashes. She felt she couldn't give him what he wanted, not without the risk of being consumed herself. And these days, after everything, she had so little of herself to go on. And she didn't want to disappoint Red. She knew she was disappointing him by running away but she thought it was an easier disappointment than he would face if she stayed. And she couldn't bear looking into his eyes a year or two from now and seeing that she was anything less than what he deserved, after all the horrors and pain he had to go through.

"Take-off in five minutes," the pilot announced through the speaker.

Liz leaned her hot forehead against the cool window and closed her eyes, willing the tears burning behind her eyes to go away.

~o~O~o~

"Why did you give her a choice, Raymond? What is wrong with you?" Dembe said, vexed. "You should have swept her off her feet and brought her here."

Red raised an eyebrow at him. "You watch too many old romance movies, my friend."

"And you too few," Dembe muttered sotto voce_._

"What was that?"

Dembe just gave him a thunderous look.

"You know, you could always do it yourself," Red suggested innocently. "The feet-sweeping and what not," he added wryly with a wave of his hand.

Dembe ground his teeth. He thought they were done with it but it seemed Raymond just couldn't let go of the old game, couldn't stop hiding behind that character. It was a defense mechanism, Dembe knew well, but he had no patience for it now. "Stop it, Raymond."

"Someone's grumpy today," Red commented breezily. Dembe shot him a third-degree stare and jumped out of the yacht's cockipt, deftly walking away to the prow where he started to coil ropes furiously.

It was maybe the second or third time in their entire acquaintance that Red saw Dembe this angry with him, and so vocal about it. All of those times Dembe had ended up not speaking to him for a month so this had to be nipped in the bud. With a deep sigh, Red came up to his friend and put a hand over one of his to stop his angry work.

"You'll tangle them," he remarked softly and bit the inside of his cheek in frustration when Dembe wouldn't look at him. "Why are you so angry about this, Dembe?"

Then he finally did look up, his expression a mask of barely contained disappointment. "Because you two, you have something special, Raymond," he explained, letting the rope he was holding drop at his feet onto the deck. "Something that only few of us ever get to experience. Something so unique and rare that most people stopped believing it even exists. But I believe it does. You- You are so close. And you're throwing it away."

The corner of Red's eye twitched, but he said nothing. He looked down at his hands. "There are two parties to this, Dembe," he replied after a moment, his voice quiet, low and somber. "She's not here. She made her choice."

"And can you tell me, with full certainty and no doubt whatsoever, that you have done everything humanly possible, to make it work? To make her stay?" Dembe asked. "Can you tell me that you will look back on this day in five or ten years and feel no regret or sorrow? Can you tell me that you are fine?"

Red took a breath, a curt intake as sharp as the sound of breaking ice. "In five or ten years I might be."

And with that he turned around and went to the aft, where he sat heavily on one of the benches. In his heart of hearts he knew she wouldn't come. Sometimes love just wasn't enough. He knew that better than anyone else. Contrary to what Dembe might think, in real life, endings, if they happened at all, were messy, and love wasn't always rewarded or punished. Sometimes it just faded away into the background, part of the great clamoring mass of unanswered questions that eventually you just had to learn to live with if you wanted to grow up. He had grown up a long time ago.

Suddenly Dembe's hand dangled in front of him. "Car keys," he stated simply.

Apparently Dembe hadn't.

~o~O~o~

Red watched the tail lights of his jet disappear on the horizon. He could call them back but he didn't want to. That was it. He was feeling enough of a fool as it was for coming here in the first place. He would have a long talk with Dembe about his silly delusions and ideas, and also about his future movie and book choices. With that in mind, he went back to the black bulking car with black windows that Dembe had rented and sat himself in the driver's seat. He put they key in the ignition but his hand fell listlessly onto his tigh before he turned it. He had no idea how long he sat there just staring ahead with unseeing eyes when he heard the door on the passenger's side open and close.

"Mind giving me a ride?"

Red slowly turned his head and simply stared. Liz gave him a small, shy smile, her eyes incredibly bright and lucid.

"You- didn't go," he finally got out, his voice floundering as his brain simply did not compute what his eyes presented to him. Lizzie. Here. Now.

"No."

"The jet-"

"I sent it to Samoa for my things. I hope you don't mind."

At that point Red wouldn't mind if she sent it to the outer space.

The silence between them stretched and evolved into something almost palpable, choking their words and blurring their vision. Although that was probably the tears.

"You came," Liz was the first to break the stilness between them. She raised her eyes to meet his, clasping her hands together to stop them from shivering.

He nodded slowly. He had to look away from her because he wasn't able to think straight when she was looking at him with so much emotion and promise.

"Yesterday, for the first time, I lied to you," he confessed. "I'm not setting you free. I- can't do that. You…you are everything to me, Lizzie," he continued slowly over the knot in his throat. "When we first met you said the I didn't keep any tight bonds, that my best friends were strangers. That I had nothing in my life that was truly important to me. You were quite right," he admitted with a rueful smile. "Except for you. You knew straight away that I needed you. And it did indeed scare me. It had scared me for a long time. Now, however, being _without_ _you_ is what scares me senseless."

She blinked, and swallowed tightly. "That's- that's my fear as well."

He searched her face for a moment with steady eyes. "But you wanted to go."

At that Liz dropped her head and turned her gaze towards to the side, looking out the windshield.

"I'm not that girl you met four years ago anymore, Red," she finally said, her voice tight. "I'm not the wholesome, bright-eyed young FBI agent you started the blacklist with. I'm damaged goods now, Red, and just a shadow of that person, with no family, no job, no _one_. I'm a disappointment to myself. And you," she turned towards him, the backs of her eyes burning. She knew she was close to tears. "-you deserve so much more."

Red shook his head, regarding her with suspiciously bright eyes. She could tell he was nerving himself up for something, he had that look about him, contained but kinetic.

"Lizzie, true, you are not that person anymore," he agreed and she felt the sad resignation overwhelm her at his words. "Lizzie, every expectation I ever had about you, every notion, you've surpassed them all a hundred times. How can you not see that?" he asked incredulously. "You're so much richer and wiser with the knowledge that only comes through all that you've been through, all that you've experienced. But it doesn't make you less, it makes you _more_," he expostulated, his voice rising. "You are not damaged, Lizzie. Only now are you whole and entire – loyal and strong and honest and stupidly, amazingly stubborn and beautiful as you are, my love. And if there's someone undeserving here, it's me. I'm the one who's merely shadows. The ghost of old lies held together by good intentions and hope."

"And love," Liz added softly.

She swallowed, finally seeing in his eyes what had escaped her all this time. They were the same. Broken, shipwrecked ghosts wading blindly in the debris of their lives, that had somehow found a way to each other. And together, they had the skill to fix what was broken, to refill the emptiness. Together, they had all the light to guide them safely home. Because, as terrible a cliché as it was, they were each other's home.

Smiling, she reached out and touched his cropped hair, very gently, with her scarred right hand, letting her knuckles brush his cheekbones, stroking her hand down the length of his sideburn and cheek to touch his throat over the little round scar. Red felt the pulse jump in his throat, and he knew she could feel it as well.

"And love," he echoed. He put his hand over hers and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the delicate skin of her palm.

"We are so worth each other." She let out a teary laugh, feeling her heart swell and overflow with affection for him, leaning into him like a plant to the sun. "Can we just simply agree that we are both damaged and undeserving? And we can go from there? And if you-"

She broke off, because he was looking back at her, his eyes so intent that it almost tok her breath away. His fingers touched her then, hands cupping her face as he bent to kiss her – a kiss that started out gentle and quickly flared into a near-ferocity that left her mouth feeling bruised. Her nerves sang as he kissed her cheek, her jawline, her throat. She pulled at his tie, the buttons of his shirt, snapping some of them off in her impatience and haste to get it over his head, to feel his skin against hers. The scars on his shoulders coming up all the way from his back gleamed like silver fingerprints. She kissed them, and heard him laugh, say something she couldn't quite hear, and then his arms went around her, lifting her up, and moving her to the back seat. She realized the car must have auto-tinting glasses and he must have pushed the darkening button because the space around them went dark and there was only the faint, changeable illumination of the sunlight coming through the roof.

~o~O~o~

When they had both emerged from the car back at the marina, looking somewhat disheveled, Dembe couldn't help the wry amused look he gave Liz. Her cheeks were bright red when he caught her gaze. "It was really hot in the car," she said, stalking past him onto the yacht. "I think the AC might have broken down."

Red had just smiled at him, with that bright rare smile that lit up his whole face, and patted him on the shoulder. He looked lighter and happier than Dembe had ever seen him. "Thank you. We're setting sails, my friend."

Now they were far away from the shore, and Dembe was at the helm steering them into far away unknown waters. He took a deep lungful of ocean breeze. He couldn't help the satisfied smile creasing his lips as he watched the two of them on the prow. Framed against the sun setting on the horizon, their clearly outlined silhouettes seemed to soften and reform as they clung together, two separate shadows melding into one.

Dembe let out a short laugh. He didn't know if he would ever be so lucky as to find such life-altering, ever-lasting love that spanned continents and years like Raymond and Elisabeth shared, but at least now he was sure it really existed.

**THE END**

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So, I hope this ending made up for all the angstier/darker parts! I would immensely appreciate if you let me know how you liked it in a final review.

Also, I'm working on a new TBL story, it should be out soon so if you want to stay in the loop, put me in your author alerts:)


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